


Battle-Axe

by ShadesinBlue



Category: Guns N' Roses, Mötley Crüe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, Fist Fights, Flirting, Light Angst, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadesinBlue/pseuds/ShadesinBlue
Summary: There are few things in life Axl hates more than Nikki Sixx working at his job, threatening to steal his boyfriend.





	1. Spitfire

**Author's Note:**

> This work is entirely fiction. I made no profit from this and I don't own any of the people/characters in the story.
> 
> Thank you to [inkk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk) for helping me come up with the general AU this is based on!

It’s shaping up to be a really shitty day. 

Axl is trying his best to stay positive, working on “breathing deep” or whatever new-age, hippy bullshit Izzy has been spouting at him lately —  asshole thinks just cause he’s gone to a couple yoga classes he’s some fucking enlightened being. But the meditation isn’t helping anything except Axl’s oxygen intake; he’s already gotten painful cases of the hiccups about five times in the last hour. 

Hiccups are the least of his very real problems. There’s the pink slip found underneath his door this morning, threatening to shut his lights off if he doesn’t pay the bill soon. Which sucks considering his water is already off until tomorrow, and he’s been using Steven’s tiny shower next door for the past week. The empty pantry at home, save for the final cup of ramen soup stashed behind three slices of stale bread that Axl has been stretching out until payday. His mother had called last night, hysterical and fully convinced Axl was going to hell because she’d had a dream where he’d been in a rock band, or something like that, wearing leather pants and apparently channeling the devil. So that had been fun, listening to her wail and cry for hours on end about his lost soul and deviant ways until well past midnight. He’d fallen asleep sitting up, cramped and awkward, drool running down his chin, with the wonderful sound of his alarm blaring from the speakers of his phone jolting him awake a few hours later.  Axl had gotten to work late, been chewed out by his boss, gained a monster of a migraine, endured being yelled at by no less than seven customers, and spilt a pot of boiling hot coffee on himself.

As charming as all that had been, nothing compares to the sheer dread in his stomach when he’d gotten to work and been introduced to the fucker he’d have to train. That slow feeling of apprehension, growing by the second as none other than Nikki fucking Sixx had watched with total glee as Axl had been given the happy job of showing him the ropes. 

Axl feels a very specific sort of way about Nikki. The smugness that practically radiates off the creep at all times, the sheer arrogance in every word he ever utters if he even deigns to speak to the rest of them — it all drives Axl up the fucking wall. Which, shockingly, is hard to do these days. Axl had decided after high school he couldn’t go around solving each problem of his with flying fists and kicks to the head. Instead, he does what every other person does and complains to his best friend over the phone until Izzy threatens to hang up on him. 

Axl doesn’t find himself starting ridiculous fights with random strangers anymore. He doesn’t rant (much), or scream (often), or go on wild tangents about the unfairness of life and inevitability of death, or whatever other messed up shit his mind cooks up. People can insult him, or be an ass, and Axl snorts and gives them the finger. Walks it off. Goes about his day. 

Which is why it was so frustrating when just a few days ago he’d found himself attempting to knock Nikki’s teeth down his throat. Truthfully, Axl hadn’t even realized he’d been pummeling Nikki’s face in for the first twenty seconds of his assault; there had been such a blank, red rage tinting his field of vision, coloring over all rational thought. But then there’d been wetness on his suddenly sore knuckles, and he’d snapped back to reality, realizing blood was everywhere: his hands, under his fingernails, somehow on Axl’s ear. Sixx hadn’t been doing much moving or talking, a total relief, but he’d seemed to be breathing and conscious so Axl had...left him there.

“You didn’t hear the shit he was sayin’.” He reasoned to Duff and Izzy that night. They both looked disapprovingly at him, expressions so near identical that Axl had wanted to laugh. 

“Like what?” Izzy waited patiently as Axl sputtered over words, face tinged red. 

“Like insulting!” Axl had finally shouted back, tugging at the ends of his hair. “With that fuckin’ dumb-ass little grin he’s always got on, just loomin’ over me and shit, thinkin’ he’s so cool with his poser high heels and,” Axl makes a wild motion around his head, “The hair!”

“You ever think maybe some of the animosity is a little misplaced, Axe?” Axl scowled at Duff, shook his head hard, nose in the air.

“No,” he’d been resolute in his answer. “I hate everything about the slimy fucker. His clothes, his voice, his name.” Axl rolled his eyes. “What the hell type of name is Nikki, anyway?”

Izzy opened his mouth but Axl growled, jabbing a finger in his face. “You say a word about the name ‘Axl’ and I’ll put fire ants in your car while you’re asleep.”

“Anyways, I also hate his friends.” Actually, Mick wasn’t too bad, but where the hell did the blonde, Vince, get off bad-mouthing Axl? Like his shiny little headbands made him any cooler.

Duff had stared at him. “Axl, you’re dating Tommy.”

Axl shrugged. “Sometimes he annoys the shit out of me too.” There was only so much babbling one guy could take listening to. Not to mention Tommy had a bad habit of turning to check out chicks, ogling their asses while Axl sat next to him fuming. 

“I think he’s jealous that I’m dating his best friend.” Axl nodded to himself. “Bet he’s got a thing for Tommy.”

Izzy coughed, placed a hand over the smirk on his face. “Sure, Axe. For Tommy.”

That had been that. And since that night, Axl has attempted to push all thoughts of Nikki from his head, which is normally hard to do when every other word Tommy says is about the guy. But ever since that fight, Axl hadn’t caught a single glimpse of him lurking around, waiting to crash yet another of Axl and Tommy’s dates. Until this morning, of course, when he’d shown up at The Roasted Cup, wrinkled uniform shirt meshing horribly with his chunky boots and dyed hair. 

As far as training, it’s gone about as well as Axl expected it to. Nikki has taken absolutely nothing seriously, preferring to eat pastries from the case and flirt with customers. He’s mixed the decaf pot with the regular blend numerous times, shattered three mugs, and managed to spill half a gallon of milk in Axl’s path, causing an embarrassing slip. 

Currently, Axl is attempting to scrub soy milk out of his apron in the break room, cursing in strings of half-finished sentences at the disgusting scent of soy mixed with lemon soap. He sighs, dropping the rag and glancing at the clock on the wall. A glimmer of hope fills his chest when he sees that his break time has just started. Axl slings off the apron, leaving it crumpled on the nearest chair in a sodden, messy heap. Times like this he wished he still smoked but all he’s got in his pockets is three pennies, a paperclip, and two sticks of gum swiped from Slash’s cup holder. 

Axl stomps out to the back alley, praying his other coworkers are able to handle Nikki while he’s gone. His hopes aren’t too high; he’s half expecting to come back inside to the cafe on fire, people running around screaming as Nikki stands in the center of the spectacle, grinning maniacally, matches in hand. Leaning back against the filthy brick wall, Axl closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of California air. 

He exhales, opens his eyes to find Nikki a couple feet away from his face, chopped bangs shielding his eyes. Axl groans low in his throat, squeezes his eyes shut for a second, hoping when he reopens them Nikki will have vanished. He peeks out, heart sinking at the sight of Nikki still clearly there. 

“What could you possibly fuckin’ want now?” Axl crosses his arms tight around himself, tucks his hands underneath his armpits in order to keep from swinging on instinct. 

“Bored.” Nikki glances to the side, corners of his lips twitching. “Thought I’d come see if you’d entertain me.”

“Bitch, I don’t like you.” Axl narrows his eyes, wanting to push away from the wall but unable to do so without stumbling into Nikki. “And I don’t have to pretend I do when I’m not on the clock.”

Nikki tilts his head, sun catching in his green eyes. He considers Axl before that infuriating smirk curls around his mouth. “You’re so easy.”

Axl snarls, coming off the wall before he can stop himself, pressing into Nikki’s space as he glowers up at him. “Say that again, Sixx.”

Nikki rolls his eyes, amusement coloring every action. “Easy,” he drags the word out. “Easy to mess with, at least. From what I hear, Tommy hasn’t been gettin’ any action from you, so if anything you’re a little tease.”

Axl stares at him for a split second. “You don’t know shit,” he finally manages to spit out, enraged to the point of physically shaking, teeth clenched hard. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, or I’ll —”

“What?” Nikki mocks, taking a step closer. Instinctively, Axl takes a step back, cursing himself when the derision in Nikki’s eyes increases at the action. “You gonna hit me again, Rose?”

“No.” Axl grits down on all the words he wants to yell, the anger building inside of him. “No,” he tries again. “I won’t hit you, I was wrong to do it.” He swallows around his pride, focuses his gaze above Nikki’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

A harsh bark of laughter tears Axl’s eyes away from the patch of air he’d been staring at, back to Nikki’s grinning face. “No you aren’t,” Nikki snickers, tossing his hair. “You hate me, always have.” He runs a tongue along his teeth, attention locked on Axl. “Maybe because you know Tommy would rather be with me. Talks about me enough, doesn’t he?” At the look on Axl’s face, he continues, grin spreading wider. “He never mentions you though, funny enough, unless he’s complaining about you not puttin’ out. Now, I wonder, you think I should maybe put him outta his misery? Go visit him tonight, get him all worked up, and then —”

Axl never finds out exactly what Nikki planned on doing to Tommy because he’s already launched himself at Nikki, tackling him to the ground with as much strength as he can muster. They hit the ground hard, skidding forward a few feet from the force of their momentum. Axl is landing hits, raining blows down on Nikki’s face under a haze of manic fury. The fucker is laughing underneath him, smirk still there like Axl has played right into his hands. Suddenly, Axl wants nothing more than to shut Nikki up, stop that grating laugh. 

He doesn't think before placing both hands around Nikki’s throat and squeezing hard. Nikki responds immediately, laugh cutting off into a sort of choked wheeze as his body arches up off of the dirty cement. Axl smirks now, hoping that his hands leave bruises to remind Nikki to keep his fucking trap shut. 

Nikki’s hand scrabbles for purchase around Axl’s wrists, fingernails biting into the exposed skin. Axl narrows his eyes, grips Nikki’s throat harder, allowing just enough slack to keep him from blacking out entirely. Cool palms rest against his wrists, fingers touching without trying to remove the pressure Axl is steadily applying to the pale neck in his grasp. He frowns, surprised Nikki isn’t viciously trying to escape or buck Axl off of him. He’s certainly big enough to do it, even if just temporarily. Axl is vicious when he wants to be and much stronger than his scrawny frame suggests but it’s like Nikki isn’t even attempting to get away from him. 

Axl looks down at the squirming body underneath him, cocks an eyebrow. There are splotches of red high on Nikki’s cheeks, the rest of his face a light pink. His lips are parted in what Axl thinks must be an attempt to suck in more air through his restricted windpipe. Then, there’s the way his pupils have blown wide, eating up the green until only thin slivers of the color ring around inky black. There’s something off about it all, something  suspicious in the way he looks, the way his body is both pliant and hyperactive, and Axl nearly has his finger on it when Nikki bucks up into him. 

Axl realizes a few things at once, realizations crashing into him at stunning speed. Nikki’s eyes aren’t dilated because of how frightening he finds Axl choking him; Nikki’s face isn’t flushed from their fighting; Nikki isn’t fighting Axl’s grip because he doesn’t want to get away. The sharp thrust of Nikki’s hips wasn’t an attempt to unseat Axl from his position on top — it was an attempt to gain friction against the obvious bulge at the front of Nikki’s pants. A flush floods Axl’s face as he stares down in frozen horror broken only at the second roll of Nikki’s hips upward into his own. A sound mixed halfway between a whimper and a moan emerges from Nikki’s lips, his head tilting back to bare his throat, still adorned with Axl’s hands. 

Axl abandons ship, rolling off of Nikki’s body like he’s suddenly caught fire. Scrambling away on all fours, Axl uses the closest wall as leverage to haul himself to his feet. He grimaces, sure that in his sudden alley crawl he’s managed to cover every inch of his body in dirt and grime.  A sticky substance he’d landed in tacks pieces of his hair together into a gloopy red mess, and Axl turns his attention back to Nikki before he ends up puking over his shoes.

Sixx doesn’t look ashamed in the least. He’s licking his lips, grinning slow as he watches Axl fold into himself and scuttle further away. Black hair stands up in all directions, messy yet somehow clean of whatever Axl’s own hair had been unfortunate enough to encounter. His eyes are still dilated slightly, the green returning to his gaze and his cheeks losing their heated blush. Livid red marks decorate the skin of his throat, beginning signs of bruising already showing. Suddenly, they seem like markings Axl had used to claim Nikki with, intimate matchings of his own hands. He flushes again, turns away without another word.

Swinging the alley door open, Axl heads straight for his other co-worker, Gilby, who currently appears to be struggling with a  large bag of coffee beans. His hat is crooked, black hair sweaty underneath, plastered to the sides of his face. Axl stops in front of him, looks Gilby in the eye, and unhooks his apron. Gilby, to his credit, says nothing except for, “I’ll cover you.” Axl lets his expression convey the immense gratitude he feels at this. He’d hug Gilby but is all too aware of the garbage he’s slathered in.

The break room is blessedly empty of Axl’s other coworker, Matt. The last thing Axl wants is to be mocked for his disheveled, flustered appearance. Sighing, he grabs his denim jacket, checking the front pocket to make sure his keys and wallet are safely inside. He shoots Izzy a quick text to see if he’s free, already planning out the awkward conversation he’s about to have with his best friend. Better than whatever conversation he’s going to have with Tommy. Axl winces at the thought, biting his lip as he turns for the door. 

If he had any luck at all, the doorway would be empty and he could sneak to his car out back with no trouble. As it stands, Axl is convinced he’s the unluckiest bastard known to mankind because Nikki blocks the exit. His hair is smoothed over a bit, expression back to it’s normal snide, smirking countenance. Axl feels a scowl pull at his mouth even as he averts his eyes from Nikki’s, looking anywhere but at the figure in front of him. 

He hears an aggrieved sigh, and then, “Leaving so soon?”

Axl grunts, deciding it’s better to not respond and keep his mouth closed. The way his mind is reeling right now he’s not entirely sure the words coming out wouldn’t be a continuous stream of expletives mixed with sobs. He jangles the keys against his thigh, finding a calming pattern to focus on instead of Nikki’s obvious stare. 

“Meeting Tommy later, huh?” Axl’s mouth thins, lips pressing tight against the snarl he feels building in his chest. He nods once, curt and jerky. 

Silence descends around them both. Taking it as his cue to leave while he still can, Axl makes for the door, head down, attempting to shoulder his way past the narrow space at Nikki’s side. A hand reaches out to stop him. Axl stares at Nikki’s arm for a solid minute, willing it to move with the force of his gaze. It doesn’t budge. Grudgingly, Axl turns his head, slowly meets Nikki’s piercing eyes. 

“Why?” He blinks at the question, scowl softening into a perplexed frown. Nikki continues to stare down at him, leaning closer as he does. Warmth follows him, hot breath ghosting over the side of Axl’s face and he really does not want to be here right now. 

“He’s my boyfriend, if that wasn’t obvious enough.” His voice comes out questioning, like he isn’t sure. Axl curses himself mentally, aware how any sign of weakness draws Nikki in like a predator scenting blood. 

“I know.” Nikki is all the way in his space now, nearly pressing him into the door. “Why are you dating him?”

Axl scoffs in disbelief. “Are you seriously sayin’ this about the guy you call your fuckin’ best friend, dude? I’ll make sure to tell him.” He moves to brush past again but Sixx stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder, pressing him back. The contact burns through the fabric of his shirt. Axl pulls away, fast. 

“Tommy is a good guy. He’s sweet, real puppy-like. He’s my brother.” Nikki studies Axl, corner of his mouth tilting up. “But he wouldn’t know what to do with a little battle-axe like you, not even close.”

Axl’s eyes narrow close to slits at the implication as well as the  misplaced nickname, hands fisting at his side. “Oh, and you would fucker?”

“Yes,” Nikki breathes out, and he’s pressing into Axl, hands reaching up like they might fist in the front of his shirt, eyes glazing over. “Axl, please, just — ”

“No.” The reply is firm. Axl shoves his way past, spinning in place to face Nikki again. “No way, Sixx. We’d be awful together.”

‘We’d be fuckin’ great,” Nikki says, inching his way towards Axl. Axl eyes him, steps back. Nikki sees the motion, stops in place. He chews on his bottom lip in a gesture so human, Axl can barely believe Nikki is doing it at all. 

Think on it,” he finally says, before walking back to the front of the cafe. Axl stares after him, half in shock. Dazedly, he turns around, walks out the back entrance. 

He manages to start his car, lets the engine idle while he slumps in the driver’s seat, forehead resting against the wheel. 

Nikki wants him. 

He groans out loud, ignoring the odd feeling settling in the pit of his stomach in favor of gunning it over to Izzy’s as quickly as his beaten-up car will allow. 

What an absolute shit show of a day. 

 


	2. Shrew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, c’mon, you have it all wrong.” Tommy reaches for Axl’s face, stops dead in his tracks at the look he receives. “Friends give each other reach-arounds all the time, Axl, it didn’t mean anything.”
> 
> “In what fuckin’ parralel universe?” Axl seethes at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is entirely fiction. I made no profit from this and I don't own any of the people/characters in the story.

“He just let me, Iz!” Axl runs shaking fingers through knotted strands of his hair, which admittedly hasn’t been the same since his alley crawl. “How the hell am I supposed to explain this one to Tommy?”

“I don’t know, Axe, but ya’ better figure it out soon.” Izzy flicks his lighter open and shut, the movement keeping time with Axl’s frantic pacing across the cramped living room of Slash’s apartment. 

“Hasn’t it been like two days already?” Slash blinks up from his sprawled position on the ripped bean-bag thrown in the corner of the room. “Like, shouldn’t you have already told him?”

Axl groans, throwing his hands in the air. “Yeah, I know!” He sighs for what feels like the hundredth time, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “I just couldn’t. Okay? He called me up and it was right fuckin’ there on the tip of my tongue, and I just couldn’t do it.” He collapses on the tiny sofa next to— and partially on top of— Izzy. 

“What if he doesn’t believe me?” he mutters, hands covering his face. “I mean, Sixx is his best friend, and I—”

“You’re dating him.” Axl peeks out from behind the gaps in his fingers to find Izzy’s stern face glowering down at him. “Listen, Axe, I’ve kept my fuckin’ mouth shut and all that shit, cause I know you actually committing to Tommy was a huge fuckin’ deal.” Izzy leans in. “But if I’m being honest? I don’t know what you see in the asshole. None of us do.”

“It’s true, Axe!” Slash’s voice pipes in over Izzy’s shoulder, later accompanied by Slash’s face popping up next to Izzy, hair in utter disarray. “We all thought you’d be broken up way before now. I mean, there’s no chemistry there.” Slash wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Plus, dude, Tommy never fuckin’ washes and he’s got some weird shit goin’ on with those drumsticks.”

Izzy pushes Slash’s head back, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground with a harsh thud. Sighing, Izzy shrugs, black hair hanging in his eyes. “Hate to agree with that jackass”, and Slash sputters in protest from behind the couch, “but I really gotta. He ain’t good enough for you, Axl, we all know it. Duff practically sobs every time you walk out the door to go on a damn date with the guy.” 

“Why didn’t you guys say anything?” Axl stares in bewilderment. It’s not like his friends are known for being polite, or keeping secrets for the “greater good”. He’s shocked Stevie managed to go ten seconds talking to Tommy without blabbing that all of Axl’s friends thought he was a smelly creep.

Slash pops back up, this time behind Axl, chin resting on his shoulder. “You looked so happy at first. And you talked about him all the time. We didn’t want to ruin it.” A pause, and then, “Plus everyone was worried you’d get super pissed and beat all our asses.”

“Nah, you were worried about that shit, don’t bring me into it.” Izzy scowls at Slash, dark eyes flashing. 

“Stevie was too! And Duff!”

“All right, all right!” Axl rubs a hand over his face, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. “So, what are you wantin’ me to do? Break up with Tommy over this?”

“Not over this.” Slash crawls over Axl, dodging a smack to the head as he situates himself between the two on the couch. He blows a curl out of his face, grinning at Axl. “Just for him being bad for you in general. What do you see in him?”

Axl opens his mouth. Then closes it. Opens it again only for a huff of air to wheeze out into the sudden silence. He thinks on it, panicking as his friends watch him in amusement. Bastards. Besides, he has plenty of reason for liking Tommy. He hadn’t been afraid to ask Axl out; occasionally, Tommy lets Axl steal a sip of his drink before bitching him out over it;also he’s tall, which is a plus seeing as Axl is rather average in height, and not growing anytime soon. Axl strains to think of more besides the fact that Tommy puts up with him, isn’t entirely scared off by Axl’s rants in the middle of the night, and doesn’t fall asleep when Axl talks about his favorite musicians. 

“He’s nice to me?” From the looks on both Slash and Izzy’s faces, that hadn’t been a sufficient answer to the question. 

“He does the absolute bare minimum for not being total shit to you, and that makes him dateable?” Slash eyes him far too seriously for Axl’s liking or comfort. Then, the little shit has the nerve to turn to Izzy, shaking his head like Axl’s answer personally offended him. “It’s that self-worth thing again, huh?”

Axl is gearing up to tell Slash that, no, it abso-fucking-lutely is not a self-worth thing, but Izzy, traitor that he is, beats him to it by nodding. “Been this way as long as I can remember. “ He glances at Axl, looks back to Slash. “Anyone who might spit on him if he’s on fire, and he acts like they’re saints, swoons all over ‘em.”

Shoving Slash’s legs off of his lap, Axl jumps to his feet, glaring down at the unimpressed figures on the couch. “I am not whatever sad-sack, damsel you’re makin’ me out to be, Stradlin. I do not need to listen to this bullshit.” He hurriedly grabs his keys, nearly dropping them in his haste to both snatch them quickly and maintain blistering eye contact with both people on the couch. The effort makes him slightly dizzy but he’s Axl fuckin’ Rose, and he’ll be damned if he admits defeat in this. 

“I’m goin’ to Tommy’s,” he announces, not that anyone had asked. “And I’ll prove to you assholes that we’re a great couple and Tommy isn’t a worthless boyfriend.”

“You’re gonna let him jump your bones?” Izzy raises an eyebrow at the choking noises Axl promptly makes in response to his question. 

“No!” Axl snaps back, when it feels like he can finally suck in enough air to breathe again. 

“Then what the fuck else are ya’ gonna do when we all know damn good and well that’s all Lee is good for?”

“I have heard it’s pretty huge,” Slash muses.

“I am leaving,” Axl snarls, stomping out the front door, allowing it to slam closed hard enough to rattle on it’s rusted hinges. 

By the time he reaches his truck, most of the bravado he’d felt leaving the apartment is long gone. His hands are back to shaking and he’s unsure whether going to Tommy’s is the best course of action but if he doesn’t do something, Axl is sure he’s going to go insane. Keying on the ignition, he takes a deep breath and heads for Tommy’s.

———————

Axl knocks for the tenth time in a row, hitting his fist against the chipped wood hard enough to bruise. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Axl listens for any sound coming from within the house. He knows Tommy is home because the garbage trap he calls a car is sitting out front of the apartment building, looking like actual hell on wheels. Axl chews on his bottom lip, considers knocking again and raises his fist to do so before the door swings open. Mick stares back at him, looking like he hopes Axl will disappear if he waits long enough. 

Axl narrows his eyes, steps forward. “Is Tommy here?”

Mick shrugs. “Come back again,” he says, shutting the door in Axl’s face, as if that’ll stop him. Axl catches the door before it shuts with the palm of his hand, shoving the toe of his boot through the bottom crack in the door just in case. 

“Listen,” he says, because he refuses to plead. “I just wanna talk to him, that’s all. Nothin’ bad.”

An awkward silence for a moment where Mick studies Axl. A flash of emotion passes over his face and is gone before Axl can place it. Whatever it was, it leaves a sinking feeling in the pit of Axl’s stomach. 

“I think you should come back, kid.” 

Axl feels his nostrils flare, knows his face is turning red with anger, and he hates it, hates the obvious show of emotion. He exhales, counts to ten in his head, tries for a smile. “Come on, man, please?” If Mick blows him off again, Axl is losing it— he’s practically begging, and he let the “kid” comment slide. 

Mick opens his mouth to say something else but he never gets the chance to respond. He’s cut off by the sound of a loud moan coming from somewhere inside the apartment, quickly followed by a choked whimper. Axl bristles, feeling an influx of rage that has him tasting blood in his mouth, because he knows that voice even if he hasn’t heard it in this context yet. Tommy’s fucking someone else.

One second Axl is blinking at Mick in disbelief, processing exactly what it is he’s listening to— the next, he’s shoved his way inside the apartment, shooting past a half-dressed Vince lounging on the couch, oblivious to whatever it is he’s shrieking at Axl in that annoying voice of his. Axl grips the door handle to Tommy’s room, yanks at the door only to find it locked. Axl smirks. Does Tommy really believe a little lock is going to keep him out? He would laugh if he weren’t meticulously planning a murder in his head. 

Axl backs away from the door, considers it for a split second. In another movement, he kicks it down with his boot, satisfied beyond belief at the splintered, banging noise that echoes throughout the house from the action. He stalks into the room, ready to confront whatever guy, or girl, Tommy is plowing into the bed. 

He stops. He stares. He contemplates jumping out of the nearest window to his untimely, yet ultimately satisfying death. 

There is no strange person warming Tommy’s bed. Just Nikki, wearing nothing but his usual shit-eating grin as Tommy pants over him like a dog in heat. They’re either both so into it they didn’t hear Axl kicking their door in, or both are just used to loud, unexplainable noises in their home. Either way, they aren’t stopping and Axl is frozen in place with his eyes glued to Tommy’s hands digging into Nikki’s hips. A tidal wave of hurt is pouring in at the sight to accompany his fury, something Axl does not want. Anger is easy, it’s his normal state. Hurt implies more, and from the looks of things, Axl should never learn to expect more from people he thinks might care about him somewhat. 

He must have gotten lost in thought because suddenly Axl is aware of someone calling his name. Blinking, he looks up to find Tommy staring at him in utter horror, mouth gaping open in an incredibly accurate portrayal of a dying fish. 

“Axl,” Tommy whispers. He can’t be that horrified, Axl muses in his head, otherwise he’d have let go of Nikki by now. Nikki, who looks smug and content, stretching out on the bed and tracking Axl’s movements.

Axl returns his gaze to Tommy, waiting for the flood of curses he’d been prepared to fling. Instead, he utters a soft, even, “You ass.” Axl doesn’t bother sticking around. He feels odd, his stomach tight, throat clenching, and he swears his eyes are starting to water. Like hell is he crying in front of any of these guys. 

Stomping back into the living room he shoves past Vince who, for once, keeps his huge trap shut. A hand closes around Axl’s upper arm, spinning him in place. Axl snarls up at Tommy, who at least has had the decency to throw a pair of shorts on. 

“What?” Axl rips his arm out of Tommy’s grasp, backing away. He doesn’t want to be in punching distance when he feels this antsy. He doesn’t want to react that way even if he’s itching to smash Tommy’s face into the nearest wall. 

“Babe, it’s not—”

“I swear if you say that it’s not what it looked like, Tommy, I’ll fuckin’ lose it.” Axl laughs, the sound bitter and jagged. “I’m not stupid, I know what was happening, I saw it!”

“No, c’mon, you have it all wrong.” Tommy reaches for Axl’s face, stops dead in his tracks at the look he receives. “Friends give each other reach-arounds all the time, Axl, it didn’t mean anything.”

“In what fuckin’ parralel universe?” Axl seethes at him. “You know what? Doesn’t matter anymore. Because you, Tommy Lee, are full of horse-shit. You’re a liar, and a shitty boyfriend, and every single one of your fuckin’ tattoos look like Slash did them while he was blindfolded and shit-faced. And your little buddy in there?” Axl lets out another laugh, this one creeping towards manic. Vince and Tommy flinch back, and Axl smiles in vicious glee. “You deserve each other, you fucking terrors.” 

“Yeah?” Tommy clears his throat, swallows, pulls himself up to his full gangly height. “Fuck off, then. I don’t need you.”

“Oh, I am.” Axl resists the urge to claw Tommy’s eyes out. “Get bent and die in the streets with all your shitty friends.” Axl frowns, glances towards Mick who’s watching from the corner in resigned annoyance. “Except Mick. I like him.”  
“Thanks, fucker,” Mick replies, tone dry. 

Axl spins on his heel, barely stopping at Tommy’s yelled, “You’re gonna regret this, Rose!”

“Nah,” he spits back. “And if I see you near me again, I’ll shove those drumsticks down your throat.” He slams the door, grateful that at least he got the final word.

Getting back in his car, Axl wastes no time pulling away from the rundown complex. He’s furious still but now his emotions are getting to him, the flippant way in which Tommy had dismissed him eating at his insides. The ringer on his phone goes off, and Axl sneers down at it before picking it up and flipping it open. 

“What now?” he barks into the receiver.

“So,” and Axl blanches at the sound of Nikki’s voice on the other end of the line. Had he stolen Tommy’s phone just to brag? 

“Spit it out, Sixx,” Axl manages to grit out from between clenched teeth. 

“Since I took care of Tommy for you, you’re free now right?”

Axl very narrowly misses running his truck off the side of the road. “What the hell?” 

“Keep up,” Nikki drawls, amused enough that Axl can picture the smirk accompanying his words. “You aren’t tied down to Tommy anymore, so are you free tonight?”

Axl sits at the red light, at a loss for words. He simply hangs up, then turns his phone off before resting his pounding head against the steering wheel. The car behind him honks and Axl flips the driver off in his rearview, pulling into the next lane headed towards Duff’s. 

He really could use a drink about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you were able to enjoy.
> 
> Feel free to come by and say hi! : [@thebyegonedays](https://thebyegonedays.tumblr.com/)


	3. Harpy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Distracting, huh?” Axl hears Nikki shift. “What are you wearing right now?”
> 
> Axl laughs softly, eyes remaining shut. “You tryin’ to take advantage of me, Sixx?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is entirely fiction. I made no profit from this and I don't own any of the people/characters in the story.

Axl swallows around the mouth of the vodka bottle, throat tingling from the liquid warmth. He pushes away the plate of spaghetti Duff is trying to get him to eat, turning his nose up at the offer of food. He’s not a kid, he can hold his alcohol on an empty stomach. 

“You’re gonna get fuckin’ wasted, Axe, and I won’t feel sorry for you.” Duff towers over him, expression stern. It vaguely reminds Axl of someone else but he can’t place the face to his wandering thoughts so he lets the image go. 

“M’not,” he mumbles, grinning. He mashes the buttons on the television remote until the channel lands on Scooby Doo. Giggling, Axl pats the sofa next to him, looking up at Duff with his best puppy-dog eyes. 

Duff sighs but sits, just like Axl knew he would. An arm snakes around Axl’s shoulders, tucking him close, and Axl melts into the comforting touch. Duff is the best friend in the world. Axl suddenly gets the overwhelming urge to tell him.

“Ya’ know, you’re like…” he pauses, waves a hand in the air as he tries to think of the words he wants to say. “You’re so fuckin’ tall.” Axl frowns. Shit, that wasn’t right. He tries again. “Ya’ make Izzy smile, prolly cause you’re big.” He winks at Duff so his meaning is clear. “And that makes me happy.” He waits for Duff to smile back at him and his kind words.

Duff looks absolutely horrified. “Axl,” and he looks close to tears. “Please don’t ever try to compliment me again. I’m begging man.”

Axl snuggles closer, pats Duff on his thin shoulder. Pats him again for good measure, harder this time so he can feel the affection. Duff’s body jerks forward from the force of his blow, his eyes watering for real this time. Axl frowns, mouths a ‘sorry’ he’s not sure Duff catches. 

“I love ya’ dude.” Axl beams at Duff, hugs him tight. “You guys are all my best friends, and I’d totally sell all my cowboy boots for ya’.”

“We love you too, Axe.” Axl pretends he doesn’t hear the muttered, “Even if you’re a pain in the ass.”

They sit cocooned in a pile of threadbare blankets, passing back the vodka bottle for the next few hours, watching reruns of old cartoons and making crude jokes about the characters. At one point, Duff reveals he had a crush on Shaggy, and Axl laughs so hard he falls off the couch in a heap. After that, Duff has to make him an ice pack out of ice cubes and paper towel for the lump he’d knocked into his head on the ground. It’s still a great night.

That is, until Duff goes to sleep, leaving Axl half-drunk and alone with his fucked up mind. If there’s one thing Axl knows, it’s that his worst decisions come around three in the morning when he can’t quiet his thoughts, or stop his own impulsive actions. He’d been hoping the alcohol would knock him out but he’s still awake, lying on the couch, staring at Duff’s ceiling fan swing around and around. 

He counts sheep for ten minutes before giving up. He paces around Duff’s apartment for another five, but stops after falling over a handful of times, and running into furniture more times than he’s able to count. Collapsing back on the couch, Axl scowls at the dark room. He’s annoyed, which he normally is when he’s been drinking too much; he’s also needy, another horrible trait of Axl’s that makes him cautious about drinking alone. He’s itching to hear another person’s voice, craves it like he craves cigarettes while sober. 

Axl picks up his cellphone, blankly stares at the lit screen. He could call Izzy— but no, Izzy will cuss him out soundly for calling this late just to babble about shit like the immensity of space, or why certain words sound weird the more they’re repeated. Axl thinks about Steven but figures he’s already passed out drunk, and waking Stevie up from a dead sleep is nearly impossible to do in person, much less through the phone. Slash has work tomorrow and usually shuts his phone off before bed so his alarm can’t wake him up. Fucker wonders why he can’t hold down a job.

Axl sighs, vision swimming as he scrolls through his contacts. He reaches one name, swallows hard. Puts his phone down. Picks it back up, finger hovering over call. If any of his friends were here, they’d tell him no. It’s a bad idea, he knows that somewhere in the logical, rational part of his brain not soaked in cheap vodka. If he has any common sense, or self-preservation, he’ll put the phone down and try to sleep. 

He picks up the abandoned water bottle next to the couch, chugs from it. Then he presses call.

The phone rings and Axl contemplates hanging up. But his fingers fumble with the phone and then a voice is talking into his ear, startling him enough to drop the cell phone onto the ground. Axl lunges after it, falls off the couch again. After a second of lying on the ground in a distant haze of pain, he moves his hand around, searching for his phone. Finally, he finds it shoved halfway under the couch. Grabbing the cell, he places it by his ear, scowling as he realizes it’s upside-down. Axl flips it, breathing heavily into the phone as he climbs back onto the couch in a flustered heap.

“Hey,” he breathes out, voice strained. 

A long pause rings out from the other end. Axl is about to check if he was hung up on but then— 

“It’s kinda late to be callin’ me up.”

Axl glances at the blurry red digits on Duff’s television clock reading quarter till four. “Or is it early?” He laughs at his own cleverness, the sound unstable even to his own ears.

“Are you drunk?” A shift in movement from the other end followed by a sigh. “Of course you are.”

“Am not,” Axl replies, petulant. He sniffs, settling down beneath the blankets Duff had left for him. “Jus’ bored.”

“Axl,” and Tommy sounds like he always did when Axl had called on nights his brain refused to rest. Exasperated. “I don’t have fucking time for this shit right now.”

“You never have time,” he snaps back, fists curling into the pillow underneath his head. “But you had plenty of time for Sixx, asshole.”

Tommy growls on the other end. “That is not—” He stops, Axl listens to him draw in a sharp breath. “You know what? I’m not listenin’ to this bullshit.” The line goes dead.

Axl lets the phone fall beside his head onto the pillow. He stares at the ceiling again, careful to keep his expression blank even though no one is around. Even with his best efforts, he feels a few tears leak out, running tracks down his face that he hastily wipes away. He’s pissed all over again at the fucker for making him cry, of all things. He’s humiliated. This is fucking pathetic, crying over Tommy Lee in the dark. He should’ve known better. Axl doesn’t normally get out of control from drinking but he does get horribly emotional, sentimental over everything and everyone. He doesn’t know what he expected to happen.

The phone vibrates next to him, startling Axl from his thoughts. Glaring, he picks it up, glimpses Tommy’s caller I.D on the screen. He answers without a second thought, determined to get the last word in. 

“What?” he snarls into the receiver. It would be a valiant effort if his voice didn’t crack at the end, followed by a suspicious sniffle from his now stuffy nose. Axl wants to sink into the cushions and die.

“Are you crying?” Wonderful. There’s no mistaking Nikki’s voice, obnoxious as ever. 

“No.” Axl grits his teeth, wills his head to clear. “I’m just drunk.” Oh, great. He contemplates waking Duff up and asking him to punch Axl hard enough to knock him out for the next month or so. 

“No shit.” Nikki sounds far too amused for Axl’s liking. “Unless you always call Tommy at night, crying.”

“I wasn’t crying when I called him!” Axl wants to bang his own head against the coffee table. He needs to hang up but he’s never been known for making good decisions, sober or otherwise.

“Oh, so he said somethin’ that hurt your feelings?” Nikki is openly snickering into the phone now.

“What, do you guys just listen to all of each other’s phone calls? Make fuckin’ lists throughout the day so you can tell each other everythin’ that happened?”

“Why are you changing the subject, Rosie?”

“Don’t call me that,” Axl grumbles, shifting onto his side. 

“What do you want me to call you, baby?”

“Not that, either,” he snaps.

Nikki laughs, low and mocking. “Lighten up, it was just a joke.”

“Everything’s a fuckin’ joke to you.” Axl waits for Nikki to agree, mock him further for being so transparent in how much Tommy had hurt him. 

“Why did you call?”

Axl’s prepared for a barb, an insult— not Nikki sounding sincere, curious. He pauses, thinks it over before sighing and settling on the truth. “I have bad issues with sleeping.” He fidgets uncomfortably like Nikki is there watching him squirm. “Can’t sleep. I think too much an’ sometimes my thoughts are…” He trails, hesitant to admit that his thoughts are so dark at times that they terrify him, keeping him awake in the looming dark. 

A humming noise travels down the line before Nikki replies, “Yeah. Me too.” He doesn’t offer anything else but Axl can hear the note of understanding, and it relaxes him immediately, easing tension in his body he hadn’t even realized had been there.

“Everyone else is asleep, so just thought,” he chews on his lip, sighs again, “M’stupid.”

“Yeah, you really are.” Axl might have bristled at the words but he doesn’t detect any scorn, any veiled derision. It’s just an observation, and it’s the truth. Axl surprises himself by laughing out loud before he can stifle the sound.

“You aren’t wrong,” he agrees. A thought springs into his head. “S’ it true that Tommy’s packin’, or nah?”

Nikki snorts hard, prompting Axl to giggle hysterically. He isn’t sure why but the entire situation is suddenly incredibly comical to him. He gasps around his laughter, wheezing at the image of Nikki speared on Tommy, like some fucked version of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. He repeats the thought to Nikki, laughing harder when Nikki joins in.   
“You’re a mess,” Nikki tells him once they both calm down.

“Trust me, I know.” Axl allows his eyes to slip closed as he listens to Nikki talk. “Crazy, Tommy put up with me this long.” There’s silence on the line. Axl tries not to focus on the way he syncs his breathing to the steady breaths coming from over the phone.

“So,” Nikki drawls, just as Axl wonders whether he should break the quiet. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“I dunno.” Axl’s eyelids start to droop. “Somethin’ distracting.”

“Distracting, huh?” Axl hears Nikki shift. “What are you wearing right now?”

Axl laughs softly, eyes remaining shut. “You tryin’ to take advantage of me, Sixx?”

He hears the smirk in Nikki’s voice when he says, “How am I supposed to do that over the phone, you fuckin’ menace?”

Axl grins. “Bet you’re sittin’ over there all hot and bothered, picturin’ some weird shit, like my ankles.” His grin widens at Nikki’s sound of protest. “What, that’s what does it for ya? Ain’t no shame in ankle-lovin’, darlin’.”

“You caught me, Rose,” and Axl thinks he must be imagining the dazed note in Nikki’s voice. “I’m secretly a sucker for your bony-ass ankles. Gets me goin’ every time.”

“Bet it does you sick fuck.” His lips pull into a lazy smirk as he burrows his head under the blankets. Why is Duff’s house so cold? “Ya’ fuckin’ stare at me enough with those dumbass pretty eyes, always watchin’ me and shit.” He doesn’t really know what he’s saying but keeps talking to stay awake. 

“You think my eyes are pretty?” Axl shrugs though he knows Nikki can’t see it.

“Yeah, they’re—” He thinks, tongue poking out from between his lips. “Green. Like a traffic light. Or leaves.” 

“Gee, thanks.” The words are sarcastic but Axl would bet money Nikki is smiling. 

“Welcome,” and Axl knows he sounds smug. His grip on the phone loosens and he yawns, the sound loud. 

“Don’t swallow the fucking phone, Rose,” Nikki says but his voice is far off. Axl yawns again, mind drifting into the blank cloud of sleep.

“Night, Nikki,” he hears himself mumble. Then he’s under.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to morning light pouring in from behind the sheer curtains and the smell of fresh coffee. Duff is an angel, he swears. Axl pulls the blanket down the rest of the way, freeing his head entirely. Blinking, he rubs a hand over his face, swiping at his eyes until they focus. He yawns, glances down. Freezes.

The call is still going. The call he’d answered from Tommy who had turned out to be Nikki. And they’d talked until Axl fell asleep, and the call hasn’t ended. Which means that Nikki didn’t hang up. He’d stayed on the line to— what? Listen to Axl sleep? Axl feels his cheeks grow hot the longer he stares at the open call. Now that he’s fully awake, he can hear the sound of snoring close to the phone.

Tentatively, he picks the phone up, brings it close to his mouth. He doesn’t know why he listens for another minute before speaking. “Sixx?” There’s silence and Axl thinks he should just hang up before things get awkward. 

“M’still sleeping,” comes the garbled reply. Axl’s mouth gapes open as he stares at the phone. His finger immediately hits the end call. 

“Who was that, Axe?” Duff’s voice floats in from the kitchen, the sound of food sizzling on the pan muffling his voice. 

“No one.” Axl swallows, throat suddenly dry. He pushes the sound of Nikki’s voice from his mind before going to join Duff for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you were able to enjoy.
> 
> Feel free to come by and say hi! : [@thebyegonedays](https://thebyegonedays.tumblr.com/)


	4. Hell Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axl grits his teeth, hard. “What do you want?”
> 
> He can feel his eye twitch as Nikki raises a single eyebrow. “Right now, a real hot red-headed number."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is entirely fiction. I made no profit from this and I don't own any of the people/characters in the story.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t ring it up,” the woman repeats for the tenth time, mouth puckered tight. Axl focuses his gaze on the brassy yellow highlights in her hair, willing himself to remain calm. 

“Ma’am, like I explained, we can’t run a coupon that’s,” he glances down at the crumpled paper, “over two months expired. Our system won’t register it.” 

He avoids groaning out loud as the woman bitches another five minutes before flouncing out the door, threatening to never return.

“Good riddance,” Axl mumbles, pasting a phony smile on his face as the next customer walks up. 

“Good mornin’, how can—”

“Large vanilla latte, sugar-free, extra whip, two pumps mocha, with almond milk and caramel drizzle.” 

Axl blinks. “Well, it ain’t really gonna be sugar-free with…” He trails off as the teenage girl shoots him a glare. “Alright, no problem.” Axl processes her payment, thankful when he turns to find Gilby’s already made the drink. 

“I hate my life,” he mutters, starting to wipe down the countertop. Gilby snickers to his left and Axl shoves him playfully. “I mean it, man. I’m gonna quit this shithole.”

Yeah,” Gilby says, grinning. “Sure you are.” Axl watches him shuffle a tray of fresh blueberry muffins into the display case. “Even if I’ve been listening to you say that every day for the past four months.”

“Just you wait, Clarke.” Axl waves a bundle of straws in Gilby’s direction. “It’s comin’, and then you’re gonna eat those words.”

“Uh-huh.” Gilby grabs the straws from Axl, probably for the best as a few had begun to slip from the elastic band and onto the floor. “Then why are ya’ still here?”

“Cause I’m fuckin’ poor and the government’s out ta’ get me.” He slumps dramatically against the counter, straightens back up to shoot daggers at the man pouring half his coffee into the garbage bin to make room for milk, no doubt. “I hate people, Gilbs, and this job makes me wanna—”

“Oh.” Axl turns to Gilby at the interruption, frowning. His friend’s face is lit up with glee, eyes darting to Axl and back to the front door. 

“What now?” He’s so close to the end of his shift, and they’ve been hit with two rushes already. He’d been hoping for a quiet afternoon in shop before he leaves, had counted on it. It’s raining today, a steady downpour in the slight chill November brings. People in L.A treat rain like a personal inconvenience which normally means fewer customers. 

“Look for yourself.” That can’t mean anything good. Axl turns towards the door. He feels the expression on his face shift to one of horror, gut clenching hard at the sight of Nikki standing in the doorway, half-drenched. 

“Oh, fuck no.” He spins around, ready to tell Gilby to deal with it while he hides in the backroom, pretending to work. All he sees is the closing breakroom door, Gilby nowhere to be found. Little fucker abandoned him. Axl makes a mental note to spill hot coffee on his coworker later. 

Sighing, he trudges to the front counter, eyes locked on the space just to the right of Nikki’s face. It’s been a couple days since the phone encounter— excruciating days spent on Izzy’s couch, humiliated out of his mind. Izzy had found the entire situation hilarious, calling the rest of the guys to come over and laugh in Axl’s face while simultaneously plying him with booze and cookies to help with his nerves. At one point, Slash and Duff had recreated the phone call, adding in lewd jokes much to Axl’s chagrin.

“What can I get for you?” He tries to smile in that empty, soulless customer service way he’s perfected, manages an odd lip twitch at best. 

Silence. Axl waits, counts to fifty before glaring directly at Nikki. “You gonna ignore me, Sixx?”

Nikki smirks, leaning forward onto the counter. Axl scowls at the puddles of water pooling off of his leather jacket. “Nah, just wanted to wait for you to look at me.”

Axl grits his teeth, hard. “What do you want?”

He can feel his eye twitch as Nikki raises a single eyebrow. “Right now, a real hot red-headed number. Major asshole but his ass—”

“Off of the menu,” Axl hisses, face betraying him by flushing scarlet. 

Nikki glances up at the menu for a moment before shrugging, looking back to Axl. “Nothin’. I’m not paying five fucking dollars for some coffee.”

“Well then, you can’t stay here. Paying customers only.” 

“Bullshit. I worked here, remember?”

“Yeah, for a day. Then you got fired.” Gilby had told him about it after Axl had left for the day. Apparently, Nikki had insulted a customer so badly it’d left her in tears. 

The bitch deserved it,” Nikki’s eyes grow hazy as he smiles at the memory. 

“Look, I don’t give a shit, Sixx. Either pay for your drink or get out of my fuckin’ face, I am not in the mood.” He emphasizes his words with a glower that might not be totally effective because Nikki smiles wider at the sight. 

“I can pay for it in other ways.” He winks, smirking. Axl wants to beam him across the face with a coffee pot as soon as he’s done puking his guts up at the mental image Nikki’s words had produced.

“You know what?” He smooths red strands away from his face, counts to ten in his head until he feels his body relax. “I’ll make whatever the hell ya’ want if you never proposition me again.”

He sighs at the look of triumphant glee on Nikki’s stupid face. “What’ll it be?”

“Black coffee.” Axl pauses in his actions to grab a cup from the stack nearby, turning to stare at Nikki, amused. 

“Bullshit. I’m callin’ that bluff.” He waves the marker in Nikki’s face before he can start talking, snickering to himself as he leans across the counter into Nikki’s space. Axl doesn’t let himself reflect too hard on the way their noses are almost brushing, or the way Nikki’s breaths are landing warm against his face. 

“If you were Mick, sure, I’d believe it, but you?” Axl shakes his head. “I know black coffee people, Sixx, and you sure as hell ain’t one of ‘em.” He looks directly into Nikki’s eyes, lets a lazy smirk trail across his own face. “I bet you’re secretly a frappe guy, huh?” He laughs at the flicker of shame passing across Nikki’s face. “You are.”

“Take it back.” Nikki growls the words at him and for once Axl feels like he’s got the upper hand in this ridiculous conversation. 

“No can do, darlin’. Besides, there’s no shame in it. We’ve all got preferences, even if yours are utter shit.” He cackles at the vicious look Nikki pins him with, pushing away from the counter to grab a cup. “So, what flavor? We’ve got vanilla, caramel, mocha,” he pauses, scrutinizes Nikki for a second before nodding to himself, “Mocha, I bet.”

They stare at each other. Axl allows his biggest shit-eating grin to break through as he waits for a reply. Nikki deflates, turns his head to the side while muttering under his breath, “Mocha.”

“Called it,” Axl crows. He shuffles off to make the drink, debating whether or not to spit in it. He decides against it— knowing Sixx he’d probably get off on slurping down Axl’s bodily fluids. The entire time, Axl pretends he can’t feel Nikki’s eyes boring into him from behind; it makes him slightly uncomfortable but he’ll be damned if he shows it.

He slides the drink across the pick-up counter with a tiny flourish. “There ya’ go. Now you can get the fuck out, I wanna finish my shift in peace.”

Nikki takes a sip of the drink. Axl forces himself not to react as their eyes meet, Nikki pointedly swallowing up half the straw, slowly sucking back up it as he swallows. A drop of chocolate sauce sticks to Nikki’s lower lip, licked away by a pink tongue.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Nikki clears his throat, grinning. “When do you get off?”

Axl blinks. “Huh?”

“Of work, Rose.” Right, of course. 

“Like ten minutes.” Why did he say that? He should’ve lied, said ten hours so Sixx would leave him alone. He blames it on his brain still rebooting from the chocolate sauce incident. 

“I didn’t see your car outside.”

Axl watches Nikki watch him. He feels like he’s missing the point, knows he’s walking straight into Nikki’s weird little trap. “No,” he admits, dragging the words out. “I walked here.” He always does on rainy days. Axl loves the smell in the air right before a downpour, the color of the sky. 

“Cool.” Nikki cocks his head, fingers twisting along the straw. “I’ll drive you home. I borrowed Mick’s car today.”

“Does Mick know that you borrowed his car?”

“No, but he will eventually.” Nikki sucks down another mouthful of slush. “What do you say?”

“No.” Axl wonders for the fifth time where the hell Gilby is. Probably watching Axl suffer. “That’s the last thing I wanna do.”

“What about if I promise not to come into your work again for the next week?”

Axl thinks it over. “That ain’t very long.”

Nikki lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Yeah but if you say no I’ll come by your house every night and play Bon Jovi outside of your bedroom window.”

Axl points an accusing finger at Nikki. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Try me.” Axl isn’t one to back down from threats but he knows Nikki means it, and the one comfort Axl has in this life is sleep. He’d rather put up with Nikki for twenty minutes than have ‘Livin on A Prayer’ haunting his dreams. 

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Gimme a second, I gotta grab my stuff.” He doesn’t wait for Nikki to respond, stalking into the back where Gilby is lurking, looking utterly pleased with himself. Axl tosses a bag of coffee beans at his head, satisfied when they make contact. He shrugs off his apron, takes his hair out of the hair-tie he normally used for work. 

“Got a hot date?” Gilby stumbles to his feet, grinning even as he holds the swelling lump on his forehead. Axl flips him off, slinging his denim jacket on before grabbing his wallet and keys. 

“You don’t hear from me by tonight, he dumped my body in the woods.” Axl lets the door swing closed behind him, walking to join Nikki at the front door. The rain is steadily coming down, the sound amplified once they step outside of the cafe. 

“Where are you parked?” Nikki points at the dented car closest to the storefront. “Unlocked?” At Nikki’s nod he steps into the rain, walking to the passenger door and flinging it open to slide inside. He shifts in his seat, watches Nikki run through the rain. Axl snorts at him once he’s inside the car, black hair plastered to his head, shivering like a wet, pissed-off cat. 

“You look fuckin’ ridiculous.” He picks at a limp lock of Nikki’s hair, chuckling as Nikki bats him away. “Didn’t you live in Seattle?” Axl rolls his eyes at the surprise on Nikki’s face. “Tommy told me,” he informs, sinking low into the seat. “Way you act, though, people might think you’ve never seen rain before.”

“It’s wet,” Nikki replies petulantly. Axl giggles at the sight of him, soaked and bedraggled, pouting as he pulls over the curb and into the street.

“Be careful, asshole. Last thing I want is to die trapped in a car with you.” In reply, Nikki swerves into the next lane, narrowly avoiding a collision with a minivan. Axl swears as the van’s horn blares out. “Can you not act like you’re missin’ half your brain cells for once?” he snaps, sitting upright to grip the edges of his seat. 

“Thought that’s what you liked, seeing as you dated Tommy.” The car jerks to the right in a last minute turn that Axl is positive Nikki didn’t signal for. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses through clenched teeth. He feels the car speed up, rain blurring the windshield. Axl hopes Mick has well working brakes. 

“Why? You liked talkin’ the other night.” Nikki laughs low in his throat. “Or was that just cause you were sad and lonely, and Tommy had already found someone else to fuck?”

Axl bristles, clenching his hands underneath his legs to avoid choking Nikki while he’s driving. “Sixx, stop talking.”

“Why? You gonna hit me?” Nikki slides his eyes over in Axl’s direction before looking back to the road, smirking wide. “That’s how you solve all your issues, right?” His voice turns mocking, mimicking Axl’s drawl in an exaggerated fashion. “No one likes me ‘cause I’m a pain in the ass— get in a fight. My boyfriend fucked someone else cause I’m a prude— get in a fight. I’m fucked in the head and don’t know how to be a normal fucking person— get in a fight.”

“Kiss my ass, Sixx,” and the anger is bubbling inside him. Axl stares out the window because he knows if he looks at Nikki’s smug face he’s going to lose it entirely. A bad idea considering he’s in an enclosed space hurtling down a narrow street. 

“Did I hurt your feelings?” He hears the derision in Nikki’s voice along with the amusement. “Gonna get drunk and cry about it later?”

Axl’s hand falls on the door handle without thought. “Pull over,” his voice, mechanical, echoing from far away. His vision is spotty, blood rushing to his head as he seethes, furious. 

“Oh, come on, it was a joke Axl, don’t—”

Axl doesn’t bother asking again. He waits until Nikki slows down at the next stop light before twisting the door handle open, hopping out before the car comes to a complete stop. Slamming the door hard enough to rattle the car’s frame, he steps onto the curb, barely mindful of the rain washing over him. 

He begins to walk mindlessly ahead, dodging past the few people occupying the street. Water drips down his neck, soaking into the worn material of his jacket and t-shirt. Goosebumps rise across his skin from the cold but he can barely feel them. He’s stuck replaying Nikki’s words in a loop, anger growing larger each time. How fucking dare he? Axl imagines running Nikki over with his car, the mental image enough to pacify a small amount of the fury coursing through him. 

A wave of gutter water hits Axl, interrupting him from his thoughts. Cursing, he spins, ready to yell obscenities at whatever dick felt the need to douse him in smelly rainwater, only to find Nikki slowing the car down next to where Axl walks on the sidewalk.

What the hell is wrong with you?” The words are half-yelled but through clenched teeth, so Axl isn’t entirely sure Nikki heard him. In the end, he thinks the look on his face should be enough to translate how he’s feeling at the moment. 

Nikki rolls the passenger window down, leans forward to yell out the window. “Get the fuck back in the car, dumbass. You aren’t proving shit walking through the rain.”

For a split second, Axl feels the childish urge to stick his tongue out at Nikki. He squashes that idea quickly, instead choosing to sneer in the general vicinity of the car before turning on his feel and continuing to walk. Of course, Nikki pulls back alongside him, earning honks from the drivers stuck behind him. 

“Axl, I fucking mean it. Get in now, or I’m leaving your ass here.”

He doesn’t spare Nikki a glance. “Good!” he shouts, staring forward. “I don’t know why you’re still here.” 

“Axl!” A surge of satisfaction at hearing Nikki’s voice calling after him. “What the fuck is your problem?”

He jolts to a stop, spinning to face Nikki as best he can with the wet clumps of his eyelashes sticking together, leaking water into his eyes. “You’re my problem!”

Nikki barks out a laugh, slamming on the brakes. “Me? How the hell am I the issue when you’re the one actin’ like the biggest bitch in town? No wonder Tommy dumped your ass!” 

“Screw you!” he’s shaking with the force of his rage, body humming with the need to release some of the pent-up emotion. “You sit there with your stupid fucking hair and your stupid fucking clothes and your dumbass fucking name like you’re king of the hill.” Axl takes a step closer to the car still stopped on the side of the road. “Newsflash, Sixx! You. Ain’t. Shit. You’re a deadbeat street rat with daddy issues who’s gonna end up dead in the local fuckin’ dumpster from an overdose. I loathe you, I hate you, I wish you’d fucking choke on your hairspray fumes.” Another step forward to deliver the killing blow. “I’d rather go home right now and spend my entire paycheck on Poison memorabilia than spend another second talkin’ to you!”

The car’s engine shudders and dies. Axl blinks, momentarily taken aback—then the car door is hurled open, Nikki flinging himself out, teeth bared. He looks seconds from swinging and Axl welcomes it, throwing his arms out and laughing.

“Come on, you ugly motherfucker, I dare you. Bring it on!” he goads, smirking as he watches Nikki rear back. 

He doesn’t try to block the punch or move. Axl takes it, gauges the hit; Nikki’s got a decent hook, he’ll give him that. A dribble of blood from his now split lip runs into his mouth and Axl doesn’t hesitate in hacking it directly into Nikki’s face. It buys him a second of shocked outrage which he uses to his advantage, delivering a blow of his own. The sight of blood spurting from Nikki’s swelling nose brings him more joy than any insult he’d thrown could. 

“What’s the matter, Sixx?” he taunts. “This turnin’ you on too much to fight back? I know ya’ like it rough.” Another smack has Axl seeing stars. He’d known Nikki had an advantage in height but he’s strong too, much as as Axl hates to admit it. 

“Keep talking.” The words are punctuated by Nikki grabbing a fistful of Axl’s soggy hair and yanking. Axl crashes halfway into Nikki, hands scrambling for purchase on his leather jacket.

“Really?” The grip on his hair tightens, pulling at his scalp. Axl growls, throwing himself forward to headbutt Nikki in the stomach. A wheeze escapes from above him and the hand in his hair unclenches. Axl rips away, wincing when he feels a few strands pulled out with the movement.

He’s not prepared for Nikki to leap at him, shoving him into the nearest building wall. Axl grabs at him, hands prying Nikki’s fingers away from the fabric of his shirt. As wet as it is, it’s a wonder the material hasn’t ripped yet. 

Once he’s gotten his shirt out of Nikki’s death grip, the fucker actually slaps him open-palmed across the cheek. “Eat fucking dirt,” Axl spits, clawing at his face. 

“Stop fighting me, Axl!” 

If anything, the words only spur Axl on. He lashes out, biting at Nikki’s hands, neck, anything close to him. A knee jams up into Nikki’s crotch, his other foot slamming down onto the other’s toes, cowboy boot heels digging in. Nikki curses, fumbling to maintain control as Axl bucks him off, finally flipping their positions so Nikki is the one pressed tight against the wall.

“Got ya’,” he breathes out, hands tightening around Nikki’s wrists. He watches the other catch his breath, the blown pupils eating up the green. Rain water drips down Nikki’s face, onto his neck. Axl watches the trail of water, swallows hard. 

“I think we should fuck now.” Axl’s gaze snaps back to Nikki’s. He takes a step back—tries to, at least. Hands are suddenly snaked around his waist, holding him close. Axl thinks about fighting it, melts into the touch instead. His body slumps against Nikki’s, feels the heat radiating off of him.

“That’s a bad idea.” Nikki’s started up rubbing tiny circles into the small of his back, thumb pressing into the base of Axl’s spine. “We’d regret it.”

“I wouldn’t.” Axl laughs in spite of himself, forehead falling forward to rest against Nikki’s. The action would be impossible if Nikki weren’t slumped over, height lowered to Axl’s level. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Axl agrees. “I’m a fuckin’ catch. I don’t know what I’d be gainin’ in this equation except a new disease.”

He feels Nikki’s shoulders jerk with laughter. “Whatever you say, baby.”

Axl shoves Nikki lightly on the chest. “Told you not to call me that.”

“Never said I’d listen.” If Axl weren’t positive he drove Nikki up the wall, he might call the words fond. 

Axl raises his head, smiles at the suspicion in those green eyes, the way Nikki’s grip tightens. “Chill out, m’not gonna hit you.” He raises a hand to Nikki’s jaw, traces the bruise blossoming along it from his own fists. He presses down, licking his lips when Nikki lets out a hiss of pain. 

“What are you gonna do?” He pays no attention to the question, tucking wet pieces of hair out of Nikki’s face and back behind his ears. Rain continues to drip onto Nikki’s lips, down his pale neck. Axl moves closer, tilts Nikki’s chin up to rest his thumb in the hollow of his throat, feeling the erratic pulse.

“Axl, what—” 

“Shut up,” he says, surprised when Nikki obeys. But then, he likes this, doesn’t he? Likes Axl taking control. And Axl has to admit he’s pretty like this, subdued and waiting, eyes dark against the stormy backdrop. “Is this what you want?” He’s practically resting between Nikki’s spread legs now, bodies flush. Axl has a hand twisted in the hair at the nape of Nikki’s neck, uses it to drag his face closer. 

“Yes.” Nikki licks his lips, eyes darting down to Axl’s mouth and back up rapidly. Axl holds him in place against the wall even as he squirms. Yanks him back by his hair when Nikki surges forward to kiss him. 

“Please,” Nikki pants. The word has never sounded prettier to Axl than coming out of Nikki Sixx’s mouth as he begs. “Come on, Axl, just give in, just fucking give in to me already, you know you want to.” 

Axl leans in. Nikki’s breaths fall hot on his cheek, across his face. Axl is close to giving in. It would be so easy to take what he wants— to give Nikki what he clearly wants. Their mouths are just brushing and this close Axl can imagine what Nikki might taste like. 

He speaks the words against Nikki’s parted mouth, his voice a whisper. “I would rather fucking die than give you what you want.” 

It’s hard, pushing away right then, but Axl manages. He leaves Nikki against the wall, blinking and confused, eyes slowly filling with poisonous green rage. It must feel pretty terrible, Axl imagines, to be played for the fool like that. He doesn’t let himself reflect on how much he’d wanted stay, to kiss Nikki. How much that terrifies him to admit, even in the privacy of his own mind.

Axl backs away, shakes his head. “Stay the fuck away from me, Sixx.” Nikki simply watches him, mouth twisted into a sneer.

Axl turns, hoping like hell that Nikki doesn’t decide to follow him and continue their fight. There are too many emotions revolving around Sixx, too many ways Axl might get attached. Nothing good can come of that, he knows. It’s better for both of them this way, separate and hating each other’s guts like they always have. 

It’s better.

Axl repeats that to himself the entire walk home, the rain washing Nikki’s blood from his knuckles like it’d never been there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you were able to enjoy.
> 
> Feel free to come by and say hi! : [@thebyegonedays](https://thebyegonedays.tumblr.com/)


	5. Vixen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Axl stares as Nikki fidgets in his seat. “I swear if you pull out your dick, I’m leavin’.”_
> 
> _Nikki grins in return. “Don’t be a dumb-ass, I’m saving that for the second date.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made no profit from this story and I don't own any of the characters in this story. This is entirely fiction.
> 
> Sorry for the long wait between updates!

Axl tries his best to push thoughts of Sixx out of his mind. It’s astoundingly easy to do once Izzy starts in on the horrible string of blind dates he’s begun to spring on Axl every other day. 

“I don’t need dating advice, Izz,” he protests while Duff fusses over his hair, nearly choking Axl with hairspray fumes. “And I definitely don’t need my hair teased to the fuckin’ sky, Duff, this ain’t the damn eighties.” He grabs the can of spray from Duff, launching it at Steven’s head without looking to see if the hit connects. Judging from the yelp followed by Slash’s obnoxious snickering, it does.

“I agree with the second part of that statement,” Izzy smooths his hands over Axl’s wild hair, attempting to reverse Duff’s ministrations. “First, not so much. You’re fuckin’ hopeless, man.”

“You ain’t helpin’ much, asshole.” Which was unquestionably the truth. The dates were going horribly, one after the other, each worse off than the one before. Axl suspects that Izzy is picking duds on purpose to torment Axl until he caves and accepts Nikki’s twisted affections— that or he’s finally enacting his master plan to drive Axl utterly insane. If so, it’s working. 

The first date hadn’t been too awful. Some cheerful blonde guy with hair down to his ass who was really into singing and acted like an over-eager puppy, laughing at anything Axl said. It might have worked out if Axl hadn’t found his nonstop optimism so unbearable. He’d made an excuse halfway through dinner about his apartment spontaneously catching fire and ducked out of the little diner, running off to his car and getting the hell out of dodge. 

The second date was interesting, to say the least. That dude was considerably older than Axl, with dark hair constantly in his face that only added to the mysterious, sulking vibe he clearly was nursing like his life depended on it. He’d only brightened up when Axl had offhandedly mentioned being cursed, and had then talked for the remaining hour about the occult, guitar, and a strange mix of the two while Axl pretended to nod in attention.

Axl forgets how many dating failures stacked up after that. There’d been the short asshole who’d scoffed at all of Axl’s music idols and acted out an off-tempo drum solo in the middle of coffee. Another grungy, self-righteous prick, dressed in a flannel shirt that had seen far better days, who glared at Axl like everything he represented was a personal offense. At one point, Axl had shown up for a date only to find Slash sitting at the table, shrugging his shoulders and informing Axl that Izzy was getting desperate. 

“If you’d just be a little more open,” Izzy mutters. Axl glares at him from underneath stiff, sticky bangs. 

“Every guy you set me up with was a total nutcase, Izz, and that’s comin’ from me!”

“Yeah, King of the Lunatics and Nutjobs,” Slash snickers before immediately cowering under the combined dark looks from Izzy and Axl.

“Where are you even findin’ these guys anyway?” Axl thinks it’s a fair question to ask because knowing Izzy he’s asking random strangers on the street if they’d like to date his best friend. 

“At underground raves,” Izzy replies, smooth as ever, and fuck if that isn’t worse than whatever Axl had already imagined. 

Before Axl is able to express his extreme displeasure in the form of scalding coffee thrown at Izzy’s stupid fucking face, Duff cuts in, arms raised in a placating gesture. “Axe, have you ever thought about maybe just...trying things with Nikki?”

Steven lets out a gasp, ducking back behind the ripped sofa to avoid whatever emotional implosion he must assume Axl is about to unleash. Slash whips out his cellphone, ready to start recording at a moment’s notice. 

Axl takes a deep breath, sighs. He wants to protest, to scream and yell that he isn’t into Nikki; he’s also exhausted, drained, and surrounded by people he isn’t inclined to lie to, even if they sometimes make Axl want to commit murder.

“It wouldn’t work between us,” he explains instead. 

“Make it work.” Izzy stares down at him, pitiless. Axl can’t blame him when he’s been the one listening to the numerous complaints about the situation. “You like him so don’t bullshit us and say ya’ don’t.”

“We’d be awful together,” Axl offers, his voice ringing weak even to his own ears. “A disaster waiting to happen.”

“Probably,” Izzy replies, shrugging.

“Definitely,” Steven chimes in from behind the couch. 

“But,” Duff continues, “you’ll say you tried. You can be done with it one way or the other.”

“He ain’t no Tommy in the package department,” Slash adds in, “But he’s not too shabby either, from what I’ve heard.”

“What are you, the Dick Detective?” Izzy swats at Slash’s head, managing to knock a few curls askew.

Steven pops his head up from behind the couch, giggling. “Nah, he just has it written down in his phone notes with everyone else’s dick size.”

“Everyone else?” Duff echoes, face gone pale.

“What the fu—” Izzy chokes out at the same time, staring in horror at their friend.

“Listen.” Axl raises a hand in the universal ‘stop’ gesture, thankful that the idiots around him shut the hell up. “As much as I wanna hear the trainwreck that’s sure to fuckin’ be Slash explainin’ why he’s got the entire town’s measurements, I have other issues to deal with.” 

“It’s not the entire town,” Slash argues, voice high and whining. “I still gotta ask—” He’s promptly cut off by a cushion spiked towards his face from Duff, who looks scarred for life. 

Axl nods his thanks, torn between laughter and tears at the thought of this ragtag group being his primary source of emotional support. “Like I was sayin’, I think I’ll ask him to talk it out.”

“No, what you’re gonna do is talk to…” Izzy trails off at the realization Axl has actually agreed to do the logical thing for once in his life without Izzy having to threaten him. 

“You’re…” Izzy swallows around a dry throat. “You’re gonna talk it out?” His voice cracks at the end of his question, and Axl thinks he might have driven his best friend to tears just by acting agreeable. 

Duff throws a long arm around Izzy’s shoulders, beaming down at Axl like a proud father. “That’s great, man. Why don’t ya’ go do it now?”

Axl frowns, shifting uncomfortably under the combined gazes of everyone in the room. When he said he’d talk to Nikki, he’d meant sometime this month, or year. Not today. He hasn’t talked to himself in the bathroom mirror for hours yet, and that’s pretty crucial if he wants to have any sort of positive social interaction with another living person. 

“Yeah so ya’ don’t chicken out and flake,” Steven says, comfortably lounging outside of Axl’s swinging range. 

Duff must see the apprehension on his face because he draws Izzy close and goes in for the kill. “Come on, Axe, you don’t wanna disappoint Izz, right?”

Izzy is still making tiny, choked sounds of happiness at Axl’s decision. Axl sighs, wondering if it’s possible to curse Duff for manipulating him like this. As it is, he sees no way out of this situation that won’t kill the rare light shining in Izzy’s eyes. 

“Fine,” he mumbles, slipping off the couch and heading for the door. Steven and Slash cheer from behind him and Axl swears he catches a tiny sob from Izzy as the door closes on his way out.

+

Axl slouches in the diner booth, checks his wrist for the time before remembering that he doesn’t even own a single watch. He blows a strand of hair out of his face and wonders if the coffee he ordered is still scalding hot. His tongue throbs at the thought. 

The waitress comes by again, probably to check whether or not Axl intended to hold up her table any longer under the pathetic claims that his dinner partner would be here any minute. Nevermind he’s used that excuse for the past forty-five minutes, looking increasingly pitiful each time he’d asked for a coffee refill. At this point he’s jittery, wired on caffeine and nerves—not the best combination for talking with Nikki. 

“Listen, kid, ya’ still wanna wait on whoever this is?” Axl sinks low in his seat, face flaming. Leave it to Sixx to embarrass Axl so thoroughly at a Waffle House of all places without even being present. 

“I swear, just another five minutes. He’ll be here.” He better be or Axl will personally rearrange his face. 

As if on cue, the entrance bell rings out. Axl’s head snaps to the door and he’s close to crying in relief when he catches sight of the shitty leather jacket and ratty black hair. Nikki smirks at him, slinking over to the booth. Axl lets out a shrill sound of protest he’ll deny to his dying day when Nikki slides in next to him instead of in the seat across. He throws an arm around Axl’s shoulders, grinning at the choking sounds Axl makes at the movement. 

Nikki tugs him closer, smiles up at the waitress like he isn’t holding a hissing, furious redhead under his arm. “Just a coffee for now, thanks.” The waitress, bless her heart, walks off without another word.

Axl manages to push his way out from Nikki’s arm, sliding across the booth until there’s at least a foot of space between them. He props his leg up quickly before Nikki tries to slide across the chasm he’s created. Once that’s settled, he narrows his eyes, pointing an accusing finger. “You’re late, Sixx.”

“I’m always late, Rose.”

“Later than usual,” Axl snaps. 

“How would you know how late I usually am?”

He wouldn’t but there’s no way Axl is ever willingly admitting to not knowing something. “Tommy told me,” he lies through his teeth. 

Nikki snorts, leaning back for the waitress to place his coffee in front of him, along with another refill for Axl. He scowls at Axl’s pointed look towards the black coffee. Axl decides to take pity on him, tossing a handful of creamers and sugar packets at Sixx in what he thinks is a considerate gesture. 

“Don’t give yourself a heart attack on my account,” Axl stares as Nikki empties over six packets into the coffee, stirring cream in until the color fades to a milky white. 

“Thought it’d be kinda romantic,” Nikki mutters around the edge of his cup. Axl winces when he takes a sip. 

“That’s nasty as fuck.”

“I mean,” Nikki shrugs, peering at Axl from the corner of his eye in that bitchy way he’s begun to associate with Sixx. “I am a street rat, according to you.”

“Deadbeat street rat with daddy issues,” Axl corrects. Shit, if Sixx is gonna quote their fight, he at least better get Axl’s insults right. 

Nikki shoots him a withering look but the corners of his mouth twitch, and Axl knows he’s not genuinely pissed. “I’ve got somethin’ for you.”

Axl stares as Nikki fidgets in his seat. “I swear if you pull out your dick, I’m leavin’.”

“Don’t be a dumb-ass, I’m saving that for the second date.” Nikki grins as he finds whatever he’d been searching for in the folds of his leather jacket. 

Axl scowls, crosses his arms. “I wasn’t aware this was a first date.”

Anything else he’d planned on saying is abruptly cut off when Nikki tosses a crumpled lump in front of him. Axl stares down at the candy bar like it’s going to implode, edging closer until he’s able to prod it with a single finger. It’s half-melted and looks like it’s been riding along in Nikki’s pocket for a day or two, but it’s his favourite kind. He blinks down at it, blinks up at Nikki. 

“Huh?” Eloquent as always, Rose.

Nikki rolls his eyes, gestures to the candy bar. “People like candy on dates and stuff, ya’ know. So I brought you some. No big deal, quit staring at me like that, Rosie.”

Axl ignores the nickname. “How did you know it was my favourite one?” Has Nikki been stalking him? There’s no way he’d still want to date Axl if he had, considering how pathetic his day to day life is. 

“You bought it all the time with Tommy whenever I’d hang out with you guys.” 

Nikki’s looking at him like the answer should be obvious. Axl feels his throat clench, warmth pooling in his chest. He can’t quite meet Nikki’s eyes for some odd reason, possibly due to the dumb smile threatening to break free. 

“Listen,” he starts before making eye contact with Nikki. Axl freezes; Nikki’s eyes are so green, and they’re watching him, waiting for Axl to say something. Panic hits him all at once and he grabs for his coffee cup, taking a few swigs to avoid speaking.

Eyebrows raised, Nikki takes the cup out of Axl’s hands. “If you’re done trying to drown yourself, I think you were trying to tell me something.” He sighs at the blank look on Axl’s face. “Did you just start talking without knowing what the fuck you wanted to say?”

“It’s a good tactic,” Axl offers.

“For bullshitting, yeah.” Nikki scoffs, leans in towards Axl. Axl backs himself up until he’s presed against the wall, cornered between the booth and Nikki. “Just say what you want to say, Axl. You normally can’t shut the hell up.”

Axl swallows around the insult making its way up his throat— he knows that will only postpone the inevitable. He should just say his piece, get it out in the open for Nikki to hear. Logically, Axl knows that’s the best thing to do in this situation. He knows but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Nikki’s throat where the bruises from weeks ago are slowly fading away. Nikki moves closer, the scent of cigarette smoke, cheap whiskey, and leather coming with him. It’s not the most pleasant combination, shouldn’t make Axl want to press against Nikki or pull him flush to his own body. 

“I can’t,” he finally answers when the silence grows too loud, too long. 

“Don’t be fucking dumb, Axl, of course you can.” He leans further in over Axl’s sprawled leg, practically on top of Axl’s lap, eyes searching. 

“I can’t, Nikki.” Without thinking, Axl puts a hand up to rest on Nikki’s chest, keeping him in place. He doesn’t push him away just yet. 

Nikki’s eyes are as poisonously green as they were when Axl had left him in the rain, pushed against a brick wall. His mouth is open in a snarl, fingers reaching to lock around Axl’s wrist against his chest. “Why not?” he demands. 

“Nikki, I—”

“Why?”

“I can’t think when you’re this close to me!” Axl hisses out, hand clenching in the fabric of Nikki’s shirt. A second passes before the implications of what he’s just said sink in along with the mortification. He moves to draw back from Nikki, recoiling like the touch burns him, stopped only by Nikki grabbing onto his wrist tighter and pulling Axl in until their noses are nearly touching. 

Axl waits for Nikki to say something scathing, make a joke of Axl’s feelings. He never does. Instead, his breath ghosts over Axl’s lips, tentative in a way Nikki never is with anything. Placing his free hand along Nikki’s jaw, Axl slowly pushes his face back an inch. 

“We should stop,” he says while glancing around the diner, suddenly aware of the people surrounding them. Not that anyone is paying attention to the sudden onslaught of sexual tension radiating from their booth. 

Nikki makes a tiny noise of frustration Axl shouldn’t find as attractive as he does. He pushes into the palm of Axl’s hand, burrowing into the contact even as he sneers in disdain. “You’re a coward,” he murmurs, words like a slap.

Axl clenches his jaw. “I am not.”

“You are,” Nikki breathes, gaze locked onto Axl’s mouth. Axl frowns and Nikki licks his lips, eyes darting up to Axl’s. “You’re scared. Fucking terrified of this.” His hand on Nikki’s jaw tightens and Axl doesn’t miss the small groan that escapes from Nikki as he presses into the biting grip Axl’s fingernails have on him. 

“I am not,” Axl repeats. The words are unsure though, shaky around the edges. 

“Prove it then.” Nikki’s pupils are blown wide. His voice is pitched lower than Axl’s ever heard. They both are breathing hard, breaths syncing up like harmonized notes. “If you’re not pissing yourself at the fucking thought of dating me, then prove it.”

“I’m not scared to date you,” and that’s the truth.

“Nah, you’re scared you’ll like it.” And that’s the truth as well.

“I’m not scared,” Axl insists because that’s who he is. He will never admit fear to anyone; will never show his obvious weakness where Nikki is concerned. 

“Then go out with me,” Nikki says. His voice doesn’t change but it’s clearly presented as a dare and Axl has never backed down from a challenge.

“Fine,” he snaps. “If you’re that desperate to have me, Sixx.”

“Definitely, baby.” Nikki grins at Axl’s automatic bristling at the pet name.

“Fine,” Axl repeats, holding himself back from throttling Nikki in front of everyone. 

“Fine,” Nikki mocks because he’s a childish bastard, and already Axl is regretting ever agreeing to date him.

“Fine,” he shoots back because Axl is also a self-admitted childish bastard and he will have the last word. “And if you fuckin’ say ‘fine’ again, Nikki, I swear I’ll shove your coffee cup up your ass.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Rose.” Axl rolls his eyes at Nikki’s self-satisfied grin, too done with the situation to bother moving when their waitress hesitantly approaches them again. 

“You boys need anything else?” The poor woman looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. 

“No,” Nikki replies, covering Axl’s hand with his own and effectively trapping it against his jaw. His hand is warm, and Axl relaxes into the touch. “I think we’re good for now.”


	6. Virago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You can’t just do that sorta shit,” Axl says._
> 
> _“Do what? Hold hands with my fucking boyfriend?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fiction. I don't own any of the characters and I made no profit from this work.
> 
> Huge thanks for keeping up with this story!

The dollar theater is showing movies Axl has never heard of before this moment, cheap knock-offs and low budget sequels to films that came out twenty years ago. He stares down at the printed ticket stub in his hand, frowning when it only contains information on the theater they’ll be watching in. His feet drag against the cheap carpeting as he searches for the correct theater number, eyes drifting from one flickering neon sign to the next. 

Once he manages to locate it, Axl sets in on finding the best seats available. It’s a simple task considering more than half of the theater is empty with lone stragglers filling in a handful of spots towards the front. Picking out two seats near the back, Axl settles into the barely cushioned plastic, wincing when his boots land in a mess of sticky substance on the faded floor. He props them up on the seat in front of him and leans back into the rigid lining of his chair, sighing at the entire situation. 

Nikki had told him to grab seats while he bought snacks but it’s been a solid ten minutes and Axl is beginning to wonder exactly what the bastard is up to. It isn’t like there was a line at the shoddy snack stand and from what Axl saw the options ranged from stale popcorn to circus peanuts. Nikki had seemed so excited though and Axl didn’t want to ruin his good mood right at the start of their first date. 

The thought alone is enough to send Axl’s stomach into a series of gnarly loops, muscles coiling up as if preparing for fight or flight. Running a hand down his face, he studies the other movie-goers from behind. A couple already making out messily with loud smacking sounds, an old man who’s either fallen asleep or freshly dead, and three preteens arguing the pros and cons of flight as a superpower. 

Axl is just beginning to get invested in the conversation when his feet are knocked aside, landing right back in the glob of—is it purple jelly? He decides not to question why that might be in the back of a movie theater, instead choosing to pour all of his internal disgust into a withering glare focused on Nikki’s head. 

“Fucking stupid, man,” Nikki mutters, plopping down into his seat with far more force than Axl finds necessary. He sets down a bucket of popcorn, pulling three boxes of candy from the pockets of his jacket and winking at Axl’s raised eyebrows. “Everyone knows flight is shit on it’s own.”

Axl nearly nods in agreement before remembering that this is Nikki Sixx and he is obligated to disagree with him on principle. “You’re tellin’ me you never wanted to fly as a little kid? Bullshit.”

“Course I did.” Nikki shrugs, eyes glued ahead to the kids debating. “Doesn’t mean I’d make a good superhero cause I can levitate or some shit.”

“Levitation and flight ain’t the same thing,” Axl automatically replies because years of secretly pouring over secondhand comic books whenever he could get his hands on them hammered certain truths into his poorly wired brain. 

Nikki turns, green eyes studying Axl and the bright flush spreading over his cheeks. A grin breaks out, mocking as usual. “Color me surprised,” Nikki drawls out. “Could it be that Rose is just a big fuckin’ nerd under all that leather?”

Axl coughs. “I-it’s not that, I just—,” and he feels the relief seep into his bones, collapsing back into his seat as the lights darken and previews begin to roll. “Thank God,” he whispers, training his eyes on the grainy projection in front of them. Nikki snickers from beside him, slouching low. 

The previews are all for actual blockbuster films that will probably never make it to the dollar theater within the next five years. Axl watches, rapt with attention if only because it gives him an excuse for ignoring his date. He feels bad about it but whenever he turns to face Nikki he finds the other’s eyes boring into him, matching the level of intensity he’d shown in the diner the other day. Three previews have gone by and Axl has already shoved half the contents of the popcorn bucket into his mouth to avoid speaking. 

“That last one sucked,” Nikki murmurs, voice obnoxiously loud as he makes no attempts to remain quiet. “How many more movies do we need about fucking artsy assholes falling in love and learning the meaning of life?” Axl snorts, wincing as the melted wad of gummy bears he was chewing goes down the wrong pipe. Nikki whacks him on the back hard enough to jolt Axl forward in his seat, laughing under his breath the entire time. 

“People like ‘em cause they’re happy,” he protests, eyeing Nikki’s bottle of soda. Nikki notices, rolling his eyes and handing it over to Axl without comment. 

“Happy my ass. Everyone’s depressed or dying of cancer.” Nikki scowls at the indie music crackling from the theater speakers. “Or depressed about dying from cancer,” he adds. He smiles when Axl swats his hand away from the dwindling gummy bears. 

“Whatever you say.” Axl looks back to the images flickering on the screen. “S’not like you haven’t bitched and moaned about every trailer so far.”

A shift in Nikki’s slumped posture has Axl turning his head despite his mind screaming at him to stay facing forward. His thoughts are proven right at the sight of Nikki’s glittering eyes raking over Axl as he leans over the armrest with a hungry expression. 

“But I’m just so bored,” he purrs, hand creeping across Axl’s knee, his touch burning through the denim. 

Axl doesn’t stop to think, simply shoving the candy he’s holding into Nikki’s lap and swatting his wandering hand off with a harsh slap. “That’ll keep you occupied,” he cooes, voice dripping with false sweetness. 

“Gotta be kidding me,” Nikki snarls, throwing himself back into his seat. 

Axl snickers, raises a finger to his lips. “Hey, shut up, the movie’s startin’.” There’s a moment of silence, followed by a loud sigh and the exaggerated rustling of multiple candy boxes being jostled around.

A particularly loud moan from the couple up front rings through the dark theater. “At least someone’s having fun,” Axl hears Nikki grumble. 

“I’m havin’ a great time,” he whispers back, the satisfaction of getting under Nikki’s skin lessened by the sharp pinch he receives on his arm.

The first ten minutes of the film are uneventful. Axl tries not to laugh at the bad acting or the cheesy editing but fails miserably once the lead actor manages to get his arm bitten off by a radioactive zombie bear. He’s musing over his own potential as a low budget film director when the sensation of an arm draping around his shoulders shakes him out of his fantasy. 

“What are you doing?” He stares at Nikki from the corner of his eye, body rigid under the light pressure of Nikki’s arm. 

“What’s it look like, babe?” Axl scowls, grabbing the hand currently stroking along his collarbones and plopping it back in Nikki’s lap. 

“M’not your babe.” Axl doesn’t imagine the tiny frown on Nikki’s face, decides to ignore the pang of guilt he feels at the sight. 

He focuses back on the movie, cursing Nikki and Izzy and everything that’s landed him in this predicament. Seeing as he’s decent at blaming others for his own misfortunes, by the time Nikki makes his next move, Axl has traced this entire situation back to his first grade teacher who’d told him his drawing wasn’t good enough for a gold star. 

A small nudge against his left hand draws him back to the present. Looking down, he catches the moment Nikki links his fingers through Axl’s. It’s sweet—and entirely not the Nikki that Axl is used to. He panics, ripping his hand away and rubbing his suddenly sweaty palm off on his jeans. 

“You can’t just do that sorta shit,” he says. Axl registers the shaky quality of his own voice, takes a calming breath.

“Do what? Hold hands with my fucking boyfriend?” 

Axl feels the entire world shift and turn on its axis. Nikki’s last words echo in his head, bounce off the sides of his brain as he tries to make sense of them. Boyfriend. Nikki thinks they’re dating for real, like boyfriends, like guys who go on dates with each other and answer phone calls late at night and laugh at the other’s stupid ass jokes and have pet names and—

Oh no.

“—Axl? Axe, come on, what the hell is wrong with you?” Axl realizes he might be hyperventilating, squeezing the sides of his chair hard enough to turn his knuckles bone white. 

“Boyfriend,” he repeats in a daze, wishing he’d just gone ahead and brought his emergency flask with him like he’d planned on doing. 

“Axl, look at me.” Fingers grip his jaw, turn his head until he’s meeting Nikki’s eyes. There’s a glimpse of something, a flash behind Nikki’s gaze, and then he’s leaning towards Axl in what seems like slow motion. It’s only when his eyes slip closed that Axl realizes Nikki intends to kiss him. 

One moment, Axl is watching Nikki draw closer. The next, he’s up and out of his seat, clutching his arms to his chest as if the mere thought of sharing intimacy with another person scandalizes him. Static fuzzes around the train wreck of his thoughts, tangling in the web of emotions fighting for dominance within his chest. They both stare at each other, Nikki’s hand still hanging limp in midair where it was just pressed against Axl’s face. 

Axl opens his mouth, thinks better of it and closes it again. Heat rushes to his cheeks, growing worse the longer they remain frozen in place. Distantly he’s aware they’re in a movie theater causing a scene for the few people scattered around them. The concern is mild; it becomes nonexistent when Nikki stands to storm out of the theater, abandoning Axl along with the tub of overturned popcorn and boxes of candy. 

The urge to let Nikki go is fleeting once Axl pictures the betrayed, wounded look Nikki had shot him before leaving. He’s out the doors of the theater in seconds, jogging to catch up and then keep pace with Nikki’s long strides. Axl sees the tight press of Nikki’s mouth, the hands balled into fists and vetoes confronting him in the lobby. Instead, he waits until they’re both in the parking lot beside whoever’s car Nikki had swiped for the night. 

“Nikki,” Axl begins. He barely gets his name out before Nikki spins on his heel, glowering down at Axl from behind thick, dark bangs. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

Axl bristles at the tone but holds in the scathing words already bubbling up to his tongue. He counts to five, takes a breath before speaking, “Nikki, listen—”

“Why should I, Axl? Give me a reason to listen to a damn word you have to say!”

There’s a manic, furious light shining in Nikki’s eyes that Axl hasn’t seen turned his way before. Sure, he’s witnessed a cruel Nikki, a sarcastic, biting one too but never this accusatory anger. Never a Nikki who’s angry because he’s been hurt. It has Axl taking a step forward instead of the instinctive step back he wants to take, calms the beginning storm of anger inside him. 

“I know you’re pissed at me.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious, asshole.” Nikki’s shaking, entire body trembling with the force of his emotions. His eyes are a livid green, neon in the moonlight, and Axl doesn’t think he’s ever seen him more open than he is right now. 

“What was the point? If you aren’t gonna give me a chance, if you can’t even stomach the thought of touching me then what are we doing here, Axl?” 

Nikki isn’t even yelling at him. The words are close to a whisper. He sounds defeated and that hurts Axl more than anything Nikki could scream at him in the heat of the moment. 

“Nik,” he places a hand over the lapels of Nikki’s beaten leather jacket, tilts his head up to meet the other’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Nikki doesn’t speak for a beat. Then, “Why Tommy? Why him and not me?”

Axl smiles, shakes his head. “Don’t be jealous over nothin’. I’m here with you now, right?” At the mutinous curl of Nikki’s lip, Axl tightens the hold he has on the jacket to tug Nikki closer. “I messed up,” he says, slow and sure. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

It’s true testimony to Nikki’s seriousness revolving around their date and around them because he doesn’t sneer, or pull away, or deliver a biting comment. He simply looks at Axl, chewing his lower lip before nodding once. 

“C’mere, then.” Axl curls his fingers around Nikki’s wrist, guides him towards the car. He wastes no time pulling the passenger door open and motioning Nikki over to his side. A small part of Axl wants to laugh at the cautious distrust in each step Nikki takes around the car, the pause before opening his own door and sliding in. 

“How exactly—?” Whatever Nikki intended to ask is cut off by Axl crawling over the center console and into Nikki’s lap. 

Axl straddles him, pleased when Nikki remains frozen. He doesn’t allow himself time to question or overthink when he leans down and presses their lips together. Nikki tastes like sugar and the lingering remnants of cheap alcohol, his mouth warm against Axl’s. Once he feels Nikki move beneath him, Axl pulls back decisively. 

It’s funny, Axl decides, how honest things are between them. The air is charged but they aren’t breathless or sighing each other’s names, confessing to feelings neither of them are prone to having. Even so, Axl can’t take his eyes off of Nikki’s mouth. He reaches up to place his thumb over Nikki’s chapped lips, effectively sealing them shut; his fingers curl beneath Nikki’s jaw, cradling his chin in the palm of Axl’s hand. 

“Is this what you want?” Axl doesn’t miss how his choice of words echo the question he’d asked that day in the rain. 

Silence rings between them. Axl blinks, slides his thumb away from Nikki’s lips. A pink tongue darts out, wets them slightly before Nikki replies, “Yes.”

“Beg.” He expects to be met with resistance or contempt at the demand. Instead, he feels the long line of Nikki’s body relax underneath his own. Axl smirks around the taste of minor victory in his mouth, observes the green slivers of Nikki’s eyes eaten up by the rapidly expanding black pupils. 

“Please,” Nikki manages to choke out. He sounds wrecked, ruined—Axl has barely touched him yet. 

Still, he waits. Grins with all of his teeth at the desperate clutch of Nikki’s hands at his waist, the shuddering breaths he’s drawing in. Axl waits and is rewarded when Nikki clenches his eyes shut like he can’t bear to ask again, as if what Axl is asking of him is painful but he’ll answer anyway.

“Please, Axl.” 

Axl hums, leaning forward to trace his lips over Nikki’s jaw, his sharp cheekbones, allows Nikki to feel the soft slide of his tongue mapping out the curve of his ear. 

“Lucky I’m feelin’ nice tonight,” but the words are teasing and besides, he thinks they both know it’s a lie. Axl would be doing exactly this no matter what mood he was in, hurtling towards this moment in Nikki’s borrowed car where the heat between them is all that matters.

Nikki sighs, tipping his head back. He’s wound tight yet still so lazy, demanding with his whole body to be touched. Axl obliges him, fingertips ghosting gentle across the pulse points of his wrists, underneath the sliver of shirt riding up just so, into the dip of collarbone leading to his neck. Nowhere is left untouched, Axl punctuating the deliberate trail his hands leave with tiny, wet kisses and nips of teeth. 

When he reaches Nikki’s throat, bared and pale and unmarked, he sinks his bite hard over the jugular. Just as he intended, Nikki arches out of his cramped space in the driver’s seat with a gasp before collapsing limp and boneless. His fingers scrabble for purchase in Axl’s belt loops when Axl holds him in place, applying pressure that he knows will leave spectacular bruises. 

“Fuck,” Nikki groans. He’s quiet where Axl thought he’d be loud, holding the tiny noises he’s making in the back of his throat like any sound will send Axl running. Axl chuckles at the thought, wonders how he’d manage to get away when Nikki’s grip on his hips is unyielding. 

Axl backs off some to place his hands on either side of Nikki’s neck, leaves a few fingers splayed over the indents of his bite mark. He presses down hard into the grooves where his teeth had been, capturing Nikki’s mouth again when he parts his lips in a moan. 

There is absolutely no finesse or romance about this kiss. Nikki is desperate from the start, pulling Axl with him. Axl finds there’s no need to ease his way into Nikki’s mouth because it’s open and inviting from the start, messy and saliva slick as he lets Axl bite his bottom lip, drawing blood; he allows Axl to lick his way around and up the roof of his mouth, scatter sucking kisses down his neck, clink their teeth together with each aggressive tug on Nikki’s hair to maneuver him just so. A hand curls around the back of Axl’s head, pulling him flush against Nikki, noses bumping with each change in angle. Nikki’s whining and scratching at the back of Axl’s neck and upper back, no doubt leaving torn patches of skin behind. 

It’s by far the best and worst kiss Axl’s ever had. They’re burning up against each other, fever hot and angry with want. Axl’s mouth is covered in Nikki’s spit and it’s fucking disgusting but he likes it. Somewhere in the haze his hands slip under Nikki’s shirt and he sets to work marking, dragging blunt nails over the thin dents between each of Nikki’s ribs, pinching and pressing at the protruding bony hips until he’s positive Nikki will look a total trainwreck tomorrow. 

They both have the idea at the same time it seems because Axl grinds down at the exact moment Nikki bucks up, and there’s the friction that’s been missing. Axl’s hands close over Nikki’s at his waist. He’s circling his hips, pressing down relentlessly and is rewarded when Nikki thrusts up so hard he nearly sends Axl off of his lap. Axl’s head tilts back in concentration as he rolls his hips down to meet the next wild thrust, sliding against Nikki and deciding then that they won’t stop even if it kills him, and Nikki’s on the same page because he’s tracing the edge of the button on Axl’s jeans, palm pressing down and—

The car shudders around them, seat groaning, and Axl hears the creaking crack as their seat squeals in protest. They both freeze simultaneously, stares incredulous. Axl takes in the state of Nikki’s neck, the ridiculous wide-eyed look he’s wearing right now, and breaks into a fit of laughter. Nikki’s grip on him had gone slack a moment ago so it’s no challenge to slide out of his lap and back into the passenger seat. He’s guffawing, choking on how hard he’s laughing at the situation.

“Did that just fucking happen?” And if the shock in Nikki’s voice isn’t the icing on the cake, Axl doesn’t know what is. 

“What a piece of shit,” Axl wheezes, holding his sides and practically bent in half, leaning against the window as he snickers. “The car seat nearly fuckin’ broke.” Obvious statement but it’s funnier said out loud. 

Nikki’s staring straight ahead like he’s contemplating throwing himself through the windshield and begging Axl to run him over. “You’re gonna tell everyone, aren’t you?”

“Nah, course not.” Nikki looks relieved until he turns and catches sight of Axl’s shit-eating grin. “I’m gonna tell Slash and he’s gonna tell everyone.”

Nikki groans, slamming his head into the steering wheel as Axl barks out a fresh wave of laughter. Once he sobers up, he smacks at Nikki’s shoulder, grinning harder at the scowl he receives. 

“Lighten up, babe,” he drawls the pet name out until it’s practically three syllables. “One day we’ll be sittin’ around the fire with all our little grandkids tellin’ ‘em this story, and you’ll laugh about it.” The look of abject horror on Nikki’s face at the thought of them having grandkids almost throws Axl back into another humorous fit. 

“You’ll never go on another date with me again,” Nikki mutters into the steering wheel. 

“Not in this death trap, damn right,” Axl agrees.

Nikki regards him with suspicion. “But you will go out with me again?”

Axl lets the pause stretch out, watching Nikki through the reflection in his window. The corner of his mouth tugs up as he replies, “Yeah, Sixx.”

Triumph flashes on Nikki’s face. It’s bright and possessive, focused entirely on Axl. Without another word, he keys the ignition and drives out of the parking lot, smirk plastered on his mouth. 

The rest of the ride is uneventful. Axl fiddles with the radio, smacks it a few times to make it work. They argue over whether they should listen to Kiss or Queen, finally both settling on the Stones. Axl sings along softly under his breath while Nikki taps out the drum beats on the wheel. During the drive, they end up holding hands, finding each other’s open palms over the console with ease. Neither comment on it. Not because they don’t need to but because both are still embarrassed about what they’re feeling, taking hold of the other’s hand like it’s a childhood dare and neither are brave enough to fully commit to the challenge yet. 

When they pull into Axl’s apartment complex, Nikki walks him to his door. Axl unlocks it, turns to lean against it with crossed arms. He thinks about making the first move, hypes himself up to do it but gets a single step before Nikki is shoving him into the hard ridges of his door and kissing him like they’ve been doing it for years. 

He’s there a second, pulled back the next. Axl licks at his lips, notes the way Nikki tracks his movement. 

“Night, Nikki.” 

“Night.” Axl is halfway to smiling when Nikki shoots him a smug, infuriating smirk before adding on, “Baby.” He turns and darts off like the bastard he is. 

Axl gapes after him as he runs off into the night, furious and fuming and falling.


	7. Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“That innocent shit don’t work with me,” Axl warns._
> 
> _Nikki grins, burying his face into the crook of Axl’s neck. “I can think of a few times it has, actually."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is entirely a work of fiction. I don't own any of the characters in this story and I made no profit from this story.
> 
> It's finished! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.

The hand resting on Axl’s thigh is simultaneously reassuring and distracting. He shifts out of reach, growling when Nikki’s palm slides back in place, fingertips resting just underneath the small hole in the denim of his jeans. 

A squeal of wood against tile betrays the slide of Nikki’s chair bringing him closer to Axl until they sit flush. Their shoulders bump and despite the cotton flannel Axl wears, he can feel the heat Nikki gives off. 

Axl turns his head to speak directly into Nikki’s ear, scowling when he gets a mouthful of black hair. “We are not doin’ this here,” he hisses, quiet as possible. 

Tilting his head to the side, Nikki peers at Axl from the corner of his eye. “Do what, babe?” 

Axl narrows his eyes. “You know damn well what, Sixx.” 

Judging by the smirk Nikki is attempting to hide behind his cup of vodka punch, he does in fact know what Axl is referring to. How could he not when the past half hour has been spent fending off Nikki’s advances—the hands snaking around his waist from behind, kisses placed along the sides of his neck, heated looks accompanied by wandering touches. It wouldn’t be entirely awful if they weren’t currently at Izzy’s apartment with the rest of the guys, all of who find Nikki’s attempts at getting into Axl’s pants hilarious. 

“Afraid I don’t know what you mean, Rose,” Nikki replies, mock coy and peering from beneath dark lashes. “I’ve been on my best behavior.”

“That innocent shit don’t work with me,” Axl warns. Nikki grins, burying his face into the crook of Axl’s neck. 

“I can think of a few times it has, actually. Like last weekend in the shower, and the other day in the mall dressing room, and this morning when we woke up and you bet I couldn’t fit—”

Nikki is cut off abruptly when Axl grabs a slice of pizza from the table, shoving it into Nikki’s wide open mouth until he’s gagging around the crust.

“Come on, darlin’, we both know you’re at your best when you can’t talk,” Axl cooes, rising from his seat to join Izzy over on the couch. Behind him, he hears Nikki’s choked coughs turning into snickers. Axl pretends he can’t feel his face burning red.

Flopping beside Izzy, Axl sinks into the old cushions, stealing the opened bottle of beer straight out of his best friend’s hands. “I can’t believe you’re doin’ this to me, asshole.”

Izzy’s expression remains neutral, eyes shielded behind the dark tint of his sunglasses. His voice is unbearably smug, though, as he flips through the television channels without glancing to Axl. “I had no choice, Axe. You were cooped up in your little love nest,” Izzy flutters a pale hand, smirking, “storin’ up on sex to last through the winter.”

Axl sputters, placing the beer down and attempting to rise but is sucked back into the black hole that is Izzy’s ancient couch. “Not true, Izz!”

Pulling a lighter from the folds of his jacket, Izzy shrugs while fiddling with the carton of cigarettes he’s miracuously procured from between couch cushions.

“Whatever you say,” he says, rubbing a suspicious pink goo off of a smoke before lighting it. 

Axl rolls his eyes, deeming the argument a lost cause. “Did ya’ have to ask all the other guys over to officially meet him?”

“Nah, course I didn’t.” Izzy exhales a cloud of smoke, smirking as Axl bats the smoggy air in front of his face. “But they sure are happy to be here.”

Axl follows Izzy’s gaze around the room to the rest of their friends. Steven is lying face down on the floor, tracing the stains in Izzy’s battered carpet. Duff is banging around the kitchen, loudly yelling at the coffee-maker because apparently the only thing this rathole of cigarettes, alcohol, weed, and used condoms needs is caffeine. Slash balances on top of the three legged dining table beside Nikki, showing pictures of snakes on his phone. 

“I need new friends.” They both know Axl doesn’t mean it.

Izzy snorts at his words, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Yeah,” he supplies, twirling the cigarette between nimble fingers. “Too bad you’re stuck with our sorry asses.” 

“Could be worse, I guess,” Axl admits, smiling in spite of himself. He tips his head back to rest against the couch, hoping Izzy had been serious when he’d told Axl the bedbug problem had been solved. 

“Coming through,” comes the obnoxious voice of his boyfriend— it still feels incredibly weird to call Nikki that—and Axl barely has time to look away from the water-stained ceiling before the full weight of Nikki plops into his lap. 

“What the hell?” Axl snaps, arms snaking around Nikki’s waist on instinct. A moment passes where he considers pushing the other onto the floor but then a steaming mug of coffee is being pressed into one of his hands. 

“Just trying to play nice.” A smug grin threatens to break through Nikki’s faux earnest expression. “Look, I even brought Izzy some.”

Axl and Izzy both blink down at the second mug in Nikki’s hands, up to Nikki’s cheerful countenance, and then back to each other. Axl knows the same thought is passing through both of their minds—which one of them is Nikki more likely to try and poison? 

“Ugh, you need a new fucking coffee machine, Izz,” Duff cuts in, flopping between Izzy and Axl, long limbs claiming the tiny bit of space left on the couch. 

“It is new,” Izzy protests. “I just got the damn thing from a yard sale last week.”

“Was it a yard sale or just left on someone’s front lawn?” Axl thinks it’s a fair question to ask, knowing Izzy. 

“Wherever ya’ got it, it blows, Izz,” and without warning, Duff grabs the mug from Izzy’s hands and downs half of it before anyone stops him. When Duff doesn’t start vomiting or clutching at his throat, Axl releases his held breath. 

“Did you really think I was gonna poison your friend?” The question is whispered into his ear and Axl can feel Nikki’s smirk pressed against his skin. 

“Yes, you sicko,” Axl mutters back. “Seein’ as last night you thought it’d be real funny to switch my mouthwash with floor cleaner.”

“Uh, what?” He looks over to find Duff staring at them, face pale. 

Axl shrugs, swatting at Duff’s legs which have begun to stretch far past Axl’s personal space bubble. “Mind your own business, McKagan. And your legs, while you’re at it.”

Duff pouts, scooting backwards until he’s pressed against Izzy who sighs before pulling him onto his lap. Axl relaxes right up until Slash catapults himself into the now vacant space Duff left behind. Steven crawls on top of Slash, bringing a bag of stale chips with him that he’s loudly crunching on. 

“So, what’s going on over here?” Slash drawls. 

“I’m tryin’ not to commit murder,” Axl says, as threatening as he can be while suffocating behind the twin masses of Slash’s and Nikki’s hair. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s just pissy cause earlier I told him bandanas weren’t as hot as he thinks they are.”

“I am not!” He isn’t unless he thinks about it too much. It’s not like Nikki can talk when his claim to fashion is platform boots. 

“Sounds like you might be, dude,” Steven manages between handfuls of chips. Izzy frowns at the growing pile of potato chip shards littered across his couch but is distracted by Duff shifting on top of him. The heated look that passes between the two of them after has Axl wanting to puke or gouge his own eyes out.

“It’s okay to talk about your feelings, baby,” and Axl feels his friends eyes snap to him at Nikki’s use of that stupid, horrible petname. 

“Baby?” Izzy grins over Duff’s shoulder at Axl. 

“It is not—”

“Oh, it definitely is,” Nikki assures them, barely flinching when Axl pinches the soft skin of his stomach in retaliation. 

“That’s actually kinda sweet, Axe,” Steven offers, cowering back into Slash at the look he receives in return. Slash looks to be having the time of his life, not entirely unusual when it comes to antagonizing Axl any chance he gets. 

Pushing stray curls behind his ears, Slash glances to Axl with glee before asking, “So, got any nicknames from Axl yet?” 

“Sure.” Taking a sip from Axl’s mug, Nikki pauses and then replies, “Daddy.”

The living room, or couch in the living room, erupts in a cacophony of yelling, cackling, and the undeniable sound of Steven dry heaving. Axl stands, dumping Nikki from his lap and onto the ground, spilling coffee everywhere and adding to the multitude of stains in Izzy’s carpet. His face is burning red as he glares down at the laughing form of his lying, dumb-ass boyfriend.

Stooping, Axl pulls Nikki to his feet and grabs the discarded mug. Tossing it without warning at Slash’s stupid smirking face, he relishes the sharp sound of ceramic splintering against the drywall. He feels a little bad about the dent it leaves behind but figures Izzy won’t notice what with the pock-marked holes missing in the walls. 

“We’re gonna need a moment,” he tosses over his shoulder while dragging Nikki into the bathroom. 

“No weird sex shit in my bathroom,” Izzy calls after them. 

“Not without inviting us,” Slash chimes in, followed by a loud thump that was undoubtedly Duff smacking him upside the head. 

Shutting and locking the door, Axl turns with arms crossed. “You made that up.”

Nikki shrugs, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Yeah, but it was funny.”

“Not to me!” Nikki rolls his eyes and it’s a very close thing but Axl manages to not strangle the life from him. 

“Why do you give a shit, Axl? Who cares what they think of your sex life?”

“It’s the principle of it. You don’t even call me Daddy in bed.”

Nikki grins, slow and predatory. “Do you want me to? Cause that can be arranged.”

No,” Axl answers, immediate. They shouldn’t be having this conversation in Izzy’s bathroom of all places but Axl doesn’t mind, allowing Nikki to move forward and crowd him back against the door.

“You think way too fuckin’ much,” Nikki says as he mouths along Axl’s jawline, hands coming down to rest around his waist. 

“You don’t think at all,” he shoots back but his head still tips to the side to grant Nikki better access. A soft bite is placed at the junction of Axl’s neck and collarbone, nothing like the bruising marks sucked across the skin of Nikki’s throat. “I’m still pissed at you,” he adds, even if his actions betray him, body arching and hips bucking forward to gain friction against Nikki’s. 

“Yeah?” And the question is an obvious taunt, Nikki’s voice already shot through with want. “What’re you gonna do about it? Threaten to break up with me? Say you won’t sleep with me till I apologize and mean it?”

Axl presses a kiss to the side of Nikki’s face, chuckles to himself. “Now why would I do that? You wouldn’t be the only one gettin’ punished, Sixx.”

Nikki grins. “You’re a sadistic thing, you know that, right?”

“You like it.” Axl pushes a hand under Nikki’s shirt, scratches fingernails down the straight path of his spine. “So what’s that make you?”

“A sucker,” muffled by Nikki’s face hidden in Axl’s hair. 

“Well...”

“Don’t,” Nikki warns but his words don’t mean much when Axl can feel his nimble fingers fumbling with the zipper on his jeans, sliding it down and popping the button with a flick of his thumb. 

“What do you want me to say, darlin’? Don’t be shy.” And Nikki isn’t, pulling back only to look Axl in the eye as he sinks down, maintaining eye contact and licking his lips like he’s been dying to do this, thinking about it for hours, breath ghosting along Axl’s stomach and Axl groans— 

A door slams, bang echoing loud enough to send both of them jumping apart. Then the unmistakeable sound of Vince shrieking, “Where the fuck is Sixx at? I was promised pizza and I ain’t talking to any of you shitheads alone.” 

“It’s almost like I’m not fucking here,” comes Mick’s voice. 

Axl bangs his head against the bathroom door, sighing in utter frustration. Of course Nikki’s friends had to show up right then because when could things ever go well for Axl? Nikki straightens, hair in disarray. His eyes meet Axl’s and hold. 

“I’ll make it up to you later,” Nikki offers, wincing at the sound of Vince calling his name between various expletives. He goes to move around Axl, stopped only by the firm hand grabbing his wrist.

Axl leans in, pauses, speaks the words soft against Nikki’s mouth, “I’ll count on it.” 

The look he receives in return is dark, full of possessive promise. Nikki leaves, door clicking shut behind him. He hears him laugh a moment later at something Mick says, the exact conversation far too low to hear through the bathroom walls. Axl sighs again, zipping his pants back up and taking a deep breath before leaving the safe peace of Izzy’s bathroom. 

“You’re here?” Vince’s face crumples in utter disgust at the sight of Axl walking towards them. 

Biting his tongue, Axl pastes on a fake grin, sauntering over to Nikki and throwing an arm around his hips just to watch Vince squirm. “Sure am. Hope that’s not a problem.”

Vince scowls, opens his mouth but is cut off by Nikki shoving a plate of cold pizza into his hands, eyes narrowed as he says, “Watch what you say to my boyfriend, shithead, or you’ll scare him off.”

“He’s dating you,” Vince points out. 

Axl chuckles, nods. “He’s got a point, Sixx. You haven’t run me off yet, I doubt he will.” 

Vince stares at Axl, considers his words before sniffing and walking off to join Duff on the couch. Nikki stares in disbelief, eye twitching when Axl smirks at his face. 

“Did you just side with Vince?”

Axl shrugs, leans against Nikki’s side. “Maybe. You did say to play nice if I remember.”

“And you’re gonna keep it up the next couple hours,” Nikki says, peering down at him. 

Axl smiles. “If you do.”

And they do, surprisingly enough. They keep it up through Steven and Duff attempting to make cookies and nearly burning the house down, saved only by Izzy beating the fire out with his shirt. Neither breaks the peace when Mick steals Slash’s whiskey bottle and hides it in his jacket for twenty five minutes until Slash threatens to frisk everyone in the room. They survive the drunken sing-a-long, the fistfight between Vince and Izzy’s neighbour, and the game of truth or dare that was mostly an excuse for Duff to goad Izzy into his pants. 

The car ride back to Axl’s is silent. The windows are down, blowing warm wind through their hair and muffling the sound of Nikki’s old stereo. Nikki’s free hand rests palm up in Axl’s lap, fingers curled and relaxed as he drives. By the time they pull into the parking lot, Axl is half asleep in the passenger seat. 

“Do I need to carry you?”

Axl cracks an eye open, squinting at Nikki from his slumped position against the door. “Not if you wanna keep both arms.” 

It’s a pointless thing to say because once his apartment door slams shut, Nikki has already hauled him up and against his kitchen counter, swaying dangerously off balance. Axl wraps his legs around Nikki’s waist, pulling at his hair to steer him in the direction of the bedroom. There’s a few detours, the two of them crashing into walls and Nikki’s teeth nipping at his throat, but they find their way. 

Axl lands on the bed, hair flying around his head. He feels Nikki’s weight, warm and solid crawling over him, and he can't help but laugh before flipping onto his back. Nikki’s raised above him, balancing with one hand while the other tangles in his hair. 

“As you recall,” he drawls, fingertips lightly rubbing against Axl’s scalp, “I owe you one.”

“Yeah,” Axl replies. Nikki’s eyes are bright, venom green and searching. “You do. I wanna try somethin’ first.”

“Feeling adventurous, Rose?” It’s a testimony to the time they’ve spent together that Axl doesn’t bristle at the teasing tone. 

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, trails both hands to Nikki’s hips. “You’ll like it, I swear.”

“Oh, really?” Nikki kisses the corner of Axl’s mouth, sighs when Axl turns his head to bite at his bottom lip. “If you say so, baby.”

“Yeah, I do,” Axl smirks and Nikki grins lop-sided in return, pressing closer until there’s no space left between them. “Let me show you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you were able to enjoy.
> 
> Feel free to come by and say hi! : [@thebyegonedays](https://thebyegonedays.tumblr.com/)


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